My So-Called Normal Life
by Rae Roberts
Summary: Sam never signed on for raising a teenage girl, but with Dean gone after the showdown at Sucrocorp, Emma is the only family Sam has left. Can these two stop hunting, stop running, and have a normal life? They're Winchesters, so I doubt it. AU based on 7:13 The Slice Girls and a sequel to Man, Our Lives Are Weird.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: This story is intended as a sequel to_ Man, Our Lives Are Weird. _You may wish to read that story before starting this one. _

_For those who have read the previous story, this chapter was posted at the end as a 'teaser'. If you've already read this chapter, you may wish to skip ahead to chapter two. _

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

><p>"Okay, on Monday we're going to get you enrolled in school."<p>

Emma's expression was skeptical as she looked at her uncle. "It's May. Don't kids usually start school in the fall?"

"Among other things, the dog's got two fractures, Emma. We're going to be in town for a while."

Sam had agreed when Dr. Richardson, the vet, had insisted that he take responsibility for the dog. Maybe it was because he felt guilty for hitting the animal in the first place. Maybe it was because he was starting to realize they couldn't just keep driving aimlessly. Or maybe, Sam thought, it was because when Emma had held the injured dog in her lap he'd seen tears glistening in her eyes. It was the first emotion she'd shown since he'd told her Dean was gone.

* * *

><p>"So you're saying Dad just, what? Disappeared? And Castiel, too?"<p>

Sam nodded, unable to trust his voice. The interrogation had gone on for a few minutes now, scraping his nerves raw. Dean was gone. Not just dead, but truly gone. No body, no hunter's funeral pyre. Nothing left but grief and pain and loss. He wanted to stop discussing it and give in to the reality. To howl and rage. To cry. Or maybe to just curl up around the empty hole in the pit of his stomach and wait until enough numbness set in to allow him to function again.

Instead, he was debating with Dean's teenage daughter. Sam had never signed on for this. He had no idea how to take care of a normal kid under normal circumstances, much less an Amazon defector whose father had just been obliterated in an explosion of black goo. Taking care of kids had always been Dean's thing, not his.

"Did you check for EMF?" Emma asked, maddeningly calm in contrast to his panicked, hopeless sense of utter loss. "It's okay, Sam. We'll figure it out. We'll get him back." Like a child who couldn't understand the permanence of death, she couldn't seem to process that they weren't ever going to get Dean back.

"Emma, listen to me. This isn't a job. It's not a hunt. There's nothing left to hunt." Sam made himself go on, hammering away at her denial. "Dean is dead. He's not lost, he's not missing. He's dead! He's not coming back."

"I don't believe you. He's your brother! How could you say that, without even trying to look for him?"

Finally, she'd raised her voice. Still in denial, but Sam could see the doubt beginning to creep in. He slumped down on the bed beside her, hating having to break this news.

"I'm sorry. When your dad stabbed Dick Roman with the God-weapon, it didn't just kill him. He exploded, Emma. Dean and Cas, they were in range. There was nothing left. They're all dead."

"No. No, no, no, no." And then there were tears. Emma hunched her shoulders in, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. Sam felt his own tears begin to fall, watching her, knowing that same awful emptiness was opening up inside of her. He pulled her into his arms, rocking her like an infant, needing the contact as much as she did. Maybe more. They stayed that way for a while, clinging to each other, Emma's tears wetting the front of Sam's shirt.

"No! It's not fair. He's not dead. He's a hero! He saved the world, he can't be dead."

Sam landed hard on the floor, stifling a startled curse as Emma jumped to her feet. She hadn't thought to control her strength when she'd pushed him away. For an instant he tensed, but as Emma ran to the wall and began beating on it with her fist, Sam understood. It was a classic Winchester method of coping—badly—with emotion. He and Dean had both put a few holes through drywall over the years. He was pretty sure their own father had as well.

He picked himself up and assessed the structural damage, which was impressive. Emma's superhuman strength had broken more than just plaster. At least one of the wooden studs was splintered, the wall bowed. Sam poked his head through the sizable hole, relieved to see that the room next door was unoccupied. And fortunately, the damage Emma had inflicted on herself wasn't too drastic. Bruised and bloodied knuckles he could deal with.

"I'll get the first aid kit."

* * *

><p>"I don't need to go to school," she said now.<p>

Emma's expression was stubborn, and so reminiscent of Dean that seeing it felt like a punch to the gut, but Sam knew how to win this argument.

"Your dad would have wanted you to. He forged a whole file of documents just so you could go." It was a half truth: Dean had started the project. Sam would have to finish it. But, he reasoned, it wasn't as if he had a better way to spend the weekend.

"You'll need some new clothes, too," he added when Emma's silence made it clear she'd given up. Because, Sam thought dryly, he needed more pain and torture in his life.

"No I don't." Emma looked down at the jeans she was currently wearing, which already had a hole in one knee. "My clothes are fine."

...And cue round two. "You'll at least need sneakers for PE and a backpack to carry your books. Come on, I saw a mall just off the highway a few miles back."

* * *

><p>"How about this one?" Sam asked, holding up a women's v-neck t-shirt with <em>Led Zeppelin<em> blazoned across the chest. It was hard to believe stores still stocked these relics, but Sam reasoned that Emma might like a memento of one of her father's favorite bands.

The teenager shrugged. "I don't care."

"Fine." Sam hung the shirt over his arm. Emma had refused to pick out any items on her own, insisting she didn't need them. Why was he subjecting himself to this torture, again? Sam sighed. He could remember so vividly being the new kid, the weird kid, the kid who never quite fit in. Emma's first day of school would be hard enough without her showing up looking like some backwoods survivalist.

"Oh, this one is cute," he said, sarcastic, and held up another shirt, this one bright pink with the appalling phrase '_boys are better than books_' spelled out in silver glitter.

"Seriously?"

Sam waggled it at her. "Yes or no?"

"I don't care."

"Fine," he gritted, and added it to the growing pile draped over his arm. It was a waste of money, but having chosen this battle, he'd be damned if he'd back down.

...Of course, if Emma ever actually wore that particular shirt, Sam thought, he'd have to kill her.

* * *

><p>With Emma in school and Sam working as a handyman at the motel, life settled into a routine. And when the dog had been declared well enough to come home from the veterinary hospital, Sam started to think that maybe, just maybe, he could manage this. Maybe he really could give Emma her shot at having a normal life. Then the dog had run into Amelia Richardson's motel room, sparking a conversation that, for once, didn't end with her accusing him of stalking, and Sam started to think he might just try and take a shot at normal himself.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Emma ran away, she didn't even make it out of town. An hour after he'd dropped her off at school, Sam's cell phone rang.

_This is an automated call from Kermit High School. Your student_—The recording cut off and a bored-sounding woman's voice read out, "Emma Winchester," _has been reported absent from school today_—The recording went on, giving the day's date and other information, but Sam was already tapping the screen to end the call.

When he called Emma's phone, the teenager didn't pick up. There were any number of possible scenarios, a few of which flashed through Sam's mind. Alarming ones involving Amazons, Leviathans, or demons. Mundane options like cutting class with a couple of friends. Sam dismissed them all as either paranoia or simply unlikely. Emma hadn't made any friends to ditch class with. A quick look online at his bank records confirmed his suspicions. Emma had just bought a bus ticket to New Orleans with one of his credit cards.

She was sitting in on a bench in front of the convenience store that served double duty as the small town's bus depot when Sam pulled up in the Impala. Emma was dressed, as usual, in one of Dean's old shirts over her t-shirt and jeans. He rolled down the window.

"Get in the car, Emma," he said, keeping his voice calm. Sam was pretty sure the expression on his face just then was more than enough to convey his disapproval.

She came around to the passenger side and got in, slouching in the seat, arms crossed over her chest. "You do realize I had an appointment with Mambo Sallie Faye?" the teenager huffed.

"A psychic?" Sam scoffed.

"A voodoo practitioner," Emma corrected him. "And she doesn't see just anyone, you know. If I don't show up, we're not going to get a refund. She might even put a bad _gris-gris_ on us."

As if his life could get any worse. "Emma,"—he reminded himself to be patient—"do you really think Dean would want you to try and summon his spirit?"

"No. But that's not what I'm trying to do," she told him in that reasonable, matter-of-fact tone of voice that made Sam want to tear his hair out by the roots.

He settled for simply running a hand through it roughly before putting the car in gear and steering away from the curb. "What exactly are you trying to do, then?"

"Find him," Emma said with a trace of exasperation. "Figure out where he went, so we can go get him back."

"I know where he is. You do too, Emma. Just think about it: Dean saved the world. He's in heaven, right where he belongs," Sam said with assurance. "Look, I know you miss him. Believe me, I know. I miss him, too." Sam swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "I know it's hard right now, but your dad would want you to move on, have a normal life. You've got to let him go, Emma. Let him rest in peace."

"My dad is not dead." Emma spoke slowly, firmly. As if she was giving a command to the dog.

Sam had no idea what more he could say to convince her. "Well, regardless, you're not going to New Orleans," he said finally, plowing his fingers through his hair again. God, he sounded like his father.

* * *

><p>"Hey, you want to bring Emma over this evening? I'll whip up a real, home-cooked meal, courtesy of KFC," Amelia offered.<p>

"Really?" Sam couldn't hide his surprise. He and the veterinarian had grown close in the past few weeks, in spite of Amelia's frequent insistence that he was creepy. Emma, though, had yet to see Amelia outside of her professional capacity as Dog's vet.

"You don't think that's pushy, do you?" Her forehead furrowed. "I just thought you two could maybe use a little break, you know?"

"Yeah. No, that's great." Sam beamed, appreciating her kindness. "We'll stop by around six? Oh, and Emma's a vegetarian, but she'll be fine with side dishes. Just get her some mac and cheese."

He'd expected Emma to resist socializing, but to Sam's relief she was polite, though distant, during dinner. And instead of retreating to their own room after polishing off her Little Bucket Parfait dessert, she went and sat on Amelia's sofa with Dog, petting the Australian Shepherd as he curled up next to her as she watched TV.

"This was great. Really," Sam told Amelia gratefully as they lingered at the little formica dining table, drinking beer.

"I like her." Amelia grinned mischievously at him. "Even if her uncle is kind of creepy."

* * *

><p>Emma ran away for the second time the next day. She'd clearly learned from her prior mistakes. This time, she'd gone to her first class so he wouldn't be alerted by the attendance office call. Sam got his first hint she was gone when he pulled up to the school and Emma wasn't waiting on the sidewalk.<p>

He waited. He called her cell phone. She didn't pick up. Sam waited some more, reminding himself that it wasn't that unusual for a teenager to fail to show up where and when an adult expected her to. Meanwhile thoughts of demons and crazy, man-killing warrior-women formed an ominous backdrop to his own reassurances.

An hour later it was clear that Emma was gone.

"Oh my god, Sam, she's probably hitch-hiking. You have to call the police!" Amelia had stopped by as Sam was checking his banking records online. This time, there was no record of a bus ticket purchase.

As he looked up at Amelia, another mental image crowded out his worries: Emma, sitting nonchalantly on the sofa, apparently absorbed in a TV show. Amelia's handbag, lying on the side table within easy reach.

"Do you have all of your credit cards?"

"You don't really think she'd—" Amelia opened her purse and flipped through her wallet. Her eyes widened. "She did."

"Well, she did learn from the best," Sam said dryly.

* * *

><p>Emma had several hours head start, but the Impala covered ground much faster than a ponderous Greyhound bus with its many scheduled stops. Sam got his prodigal niece off the bus when it stopped at the bus depot in Kilgore, Texas.<p>

"All right, you win. You want to call Dean up? Have a séance? Fine." After driving across Texas for eight hours, Sam's patience was worn thin. "You know what? I hope you can contact him from 'beyond the veil' or whatever. Maybe he'll be able to talk some sense into you," he added, exasperated.

It was another six hours to New Orleans. Neither Sam nor Emma had much to say as they took turns driving, reminding Sam with a pang of the silent miles he and Dean had logged any time they'd had a disagreement. He tried several times to engage Emma in conversation, but the attempts inevitably died out after a few strained words. At last they reached the city and checked into a motel for a few hours of sleep before Emma's appointment with the voodoo priestess, Mambo Sallie Faye.

The voodooienne conducted her business out of an old shotgun-style house with a neon sign in the window advertising her services. The parlor was set up with a circular table swathed in layers of tablecloths, the top one embroidered with arcane symbols. There was an abundance of candles, a set of musical chimes suspended from a brass stand, and bowls of something that might have been components for spellwork, but to Sam's skeptical eye the contents looked more like potpourri. Heavy draperies covered the windows.

Mambo Sallie herself was a dignified middle-aged woman in a flowing caftan. An elaborately tied and pleated scarf covered her gray braids and bangle bracelets clinked softly with every graceful motion of her hands. Her voice was a rich, confident alto as she instructed Emma on the proper frame of mind to maintain during the summoning. Sincerity and purity of intent were crucial, she warned the teenager.

"Did you bring an item belonging to the deceased, as I instructed?" Mambo Sallie gestured them take seats at the table while she turned a dimmer switch on the wall, lowering the lights in the dusty crystal chandelier until the room was dim, shadows gathering thickly in the corners beyond the glow of the candles.

Emma shrugged out of the shirt of Dean's she'd been wearing as a jacket, folding it reverently and laying it in the middle of the table.

"Excellent. This will help us to align the spiritual energies with the physical plane and enhance their manifestation," Mambo Sallie said, laying a hand on the old shirt as if bestowing a benediction.

Seated across from Emma, Sam had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. It was tempting to offer to get Dean's favorite sawed-off shotgun out of the trunk as a more appropriate focus of his brother's 'spiritual energies' than some ratty old army surplus shirt. It wasn't that Sam didn't believe in psychics. He'd met a few genuinely gifted ones, like Pamela Barnes. Mambo Sallie was gifted, all right, he thought cynically. A gifted con artist.

They joined hands in a circle while the voodooienne began to chant a summoning ritual. Emma closed her eyes dutifully but Sam noted that her eyelashes fluttered. He didn't bother pretending, watching Mambo Sallie suspiciously.

"Dean Winchester, I summon thy spirit to join us in this sacred circle. Spirit, I summon thee to join us. Spirit, I command thee to manifest thyself… Art thou with us, Dean?"

The chandelier began to flicker with an audible crackle and hum of electricity.

"Emma, the spirit of your father has joined our sacred circle." Mambo Sallie gave Emma's fingers a gentle squeeze, a warm smile lightening her stern features.

"No. That's not my dad," Emma said, shaking her head.

Mambo Sallie's eyebrows shot up. "Child, it is imperative that you have faith."

"I do. But my dad would never go vengeful. He knows better, especially after what happened to Uncle Bobby," Emma said earnestly.

Sam stifled a snort. Mambo Sallie Faye looked completely confused by Emma's comments.

"You are fortunate, child. I am an initiate of many spiritual paths, many different methods of communing with the beyond," she said, collecting herself. "We will consult the talking board."

Sam suppressed his impatience as they all crowded the tips of their fingers onto the heart-shaped wooden planchette and waited while Mambo Sallie repeated the summoning. This time the lights remained dim.

"Spirit, I command thee to manifest thyself. Are you with us, Dean?"

The planchette hovered over the board, coming to rest on the answer. _Yes_. Emma seemed entranced by the procedure, looking eagerly to Mambo Sallie to continue. Of course Emma would want to believe, Sam thought, and unfortunately, the ouija board had credibility. She'd probably heard the story of how he'd once used one to communicate with Dean when his brother had been comatose after a car crash.

"Dean, your beloved daughter, Emma, is here. She is concerned for the state of your eternal soul, Dean. Spirit, I command thee to manifest thyself and tell us, is your soul at rest?"

_Yes_, came the answer. The planchette moved on, hovering back and forth across the alphabet printed on the spirit board, spelling out a message. _E-m-m-a_, it began. Sam scowled. The voodooienne was telling Emma what she wanted to hear. What she really needed to hear, but still, watching Mambo Sallie run her con on the vulnerable teenager made his whole body tense with anger.

_Emma, I love you. My soul is at rest_. The planchette hovered to a stop over the printed word, _Goodbye_.

Emma stood up abruptly, gathering up Dean's old shirt and hugging it to her. "Thank you, Ms. Faye. That was very entertaining," she said tonelessly.

Sam and Mambo Sallie exchanged a look as Emma walked out of the room, her back straight, head held high. Mambo Sallie seemed about to say something, but Sam shook his head and tossed down a pile of bills onto the table to pay for the séance. It was a harsh lesson, he thought, but one that Emma had needed to learn.

Following her out of the house, Sam asked, "What made you change your mind? She really had you going there for a minute."

Emma scoffed. Her eyes were over-bright, signalling the possibility of tears, but her rigid posture had relaxed. "Dad would never say 'I love you'. He didn't need to," she added quickly.

Sam knew his expression had betrayed him.

"I knew," Emma went on, reassuring. She reached up patted Sam's shoulder, a quick, awkward gesture. "He always said we were the most important thing in the world to him."

"I know he loved you. But maybe he regretted not saying it." Sam willed his eyes not to well up with tears. Bad time to play devil's advocate, he chastised himself, but it hurt to discover that Dean had never gotten the chance to speak those three words to his daughter.

"Nah," she said breezily. "And anyway, if Dad really was in heaven and I'd interrupted him, he would have called me Emma Jo. I'm pretty sure he only gave me a middle name so he could use it when I pissed him off," she giggled.

Sam managed a chuckle at that, but the conversation had brought on a fresh wave of grief. Dean should be here for Emma. Damn it, he thought, feeling the heat of those unshed tears, Dean should be here for _him_. He pulled Emma into a hug. "I miss him."

"I know. Me too."

Sam felt the teen's body stiffen at the contact, but she must have taken pity on him because after a second she looped her arms loosely around his waist, enduring the embrace. He sniffled discreetly, composing himself, and let her go.

"Don't worry, Sam. I'm not giving up. We'll get him back."


	3. Chapter 3

"So where to?" Sam asked. At Emma's baffled look, he elaborated, "You don't have to be back in school until Monday. As long as we're already in New Orleans we could do the tourist thing for a few hours, if you want." As annoyed as he still was with her for running away, he couldn't help but sympathize. He missed his brother, too.

But Emma shook her head. "I think we should start hunting for Kevin Tran."

Well, at least he was off the hook for trying to find family-friendly tourist attractions in the Big Easy, Sam thought wryly.

"Kevin's not your problem, Emma."

"You don't think Dad would have wanted us—"

"No," Sam cut her off, "I don't. Crowley took Kevin. Dean did his damnedest to make sure the King of Hell never found out about you. We're going to keep it that way," he insisted as he drove out of the city. "I'm not about to drag you into a hunt, not when Crowley's involved."

"So _you_ hunt for Kevin. You know where to start. I can stay out of it."

"Look, Kevin's a prophet; he's useful. Crowley's not going to hurt him," Sam reasoned, hoping it was true. "I'm out. No more hunting. Your dad wanted you to live a normal life, Emma. So I'm going to make sure that's exactly what you get."

"No, Sam, don't blame this on me. This is about Amelia," she accused.

Sam sighed. Forget hunting, saving the world, stopping the apocalypse... Nothing in his previous experience had prepared him to be a surrogate father to his brother's teenaged daughter.

"Okay, yeah, if we stick around, Amelia and I might eventually have... Something," he admitted, not entirely sure of his own feelings for the veterinarian. "But Emma, you come first. You're family," he assured her.

"Dad's family, too."

She'd turned to stare out the side window, sulking, the words barely audible. Sam chose to pretend he didn't hear.

* * *

><p>"Sam, you need help."<p>

He heard the slosh of liquid being poured into glasses. Amelia appeared beside him, offering a motel room tumbler three-quarters full of whiskey. His maybe-girlfriend and his late brother shared the same go-to method for coping with stress, Sam thought wearily. He nodded his thanks as he took the glass and knocked back a healthy swallow.

"I just need a little more time to get some kind of lead on which way she's headed."

"It's been almost eight hours already. She's a teenaged girl," Amelia argued. "Anything could happen to her. You've got to call the police."

"She's street smart. And a lot tougher than she looks," Sam tried to reassure her, but privately he had his own doubts. Emma had hunter training and superhuman strength on her side, sure, but she was still just a kid, and as vulnerable as a normal human to being shot or stabbed… Or drugged, Sam thought with a twinge of nausea, and forcibly stopped that train of thought.

"I can find her. A lead will turn up."

"Even if you can find her on your own, Sam, then what?"

Amelia was pacing. She'd already finished her own drink, Sam noted. Her obvious concern for his niece warmed him, but it was becoming apparent that Amelia had a few issues of her own to deal with, too. That thought was easily pushed aside, however. Right now he had Emma to worry about.

"Just what are you trying to say, Amelia?"

"Just that Emma's obviously a troubled kid. You may have to admit that you can't meet all of her needs all on your own," Amelia said, her brown eyes warm with concern.

Sam knew she meant well, but his hackles rose at the thought of notifying the authorities. Emma would wind up in foster care, he thought, unwelcome memories of his and Dean's own childhoods flooding back. Their dad had had to deal with his share of concerned teachers and school counselors. Nosy busybodies with good intentions. He and Dean had learned young to lie to authority figures. A hunter's life wasn't exactly conducive to raising kids, not in a way the state would deem acceptable, anyway. And Emma wasn't human. That complicated matters. He couldn't risk her getting put into the foster care system.

"Just a few more hours," he lied, "and then I'll call the police." Sam stood up and grabbed the car keys from the coffee table. There was no way he could explain his reluctance to Amelia. He left her staring after him, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

Driving aimlessly wasn't going to solve anything, but he couldn't just sit in the motel worrying. Emma hadn't left a trace this time, and he'd exhausted every faint shadow of a lead. The sound of his cell phone ringing had Sam fumbling to pick up with none of his usual athletic grace.

"Sam Winchester?" The soft, sweet voice was hauntingly familiar.

"This is Sam."

"Thank God I tracked you down. It's Missouri Mosely. I've got to speak to your brother."

"Missouri? Dean's dead." Sam's voice broke as he repeated the news. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry." There was a pause. "But you should know, I got a call from someone… Some _thing_, claiming to be Dean's daughter."

He stifled the urge to laugh wildly. "It's okay. Emma is definitely Dean's, all right."

"That's as may be, but I see nothing but bad omens where this child of his is concerned." Missouri's usual soft-spoken voice was unnaturally stern. "Blood. So much blood."

"She's on her way to you now, isn't she?" Again, Sam felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. Relief. Of course. He should have known that Emma would seek out Missouri. The woman's psychic abilities were renowned.

"I told her I had nothing to say to her, but I can sense her, Sam. Coming closer every hour. She's on her way."

"Don't worry, ma'am. I'll come get her."

* * *

><p>Eleven hours later Sam pulled up in front of Missouri's modest house in Lawrence, Kansas. He got out of the car and stretched gratefully. With all the worry, all the driving, he felt as if he'd done more than enough penance for that time in Flagstaff when, a teenager himself, he'd run away from home. The porch light was on and Missouri opened the front door before he had a chance to knock. She looked about the same as ever, Sam thought, just a few strands of gray glimmering at her temples.<p>

"Hi, Missouri. Is Emma here?"

She led him a few steps into the house, closing the door behind them, and pointed with her chin to where the teen lay curled up on a sofa in the living room. Asleep, Emma looked much younger, child-like and innocent. Not at all like the monstrous subject of ominous visions, Sam thought wryly.

Missouri looked embarrassed. "I might have slipped a little something into her sweet tea," she admitted, wringing her hands.

"You roofied my niece? Missouri, she's just a kid," Sam said, disapproving. He couldn't help but notice, though, that she'd tucked Emma in with a crocheted afghan and put a pillow under her head.

"She's not human. I had such terrible visions of Dean," Missouri whispered. "Violence and bloodshed... Sam, I don't even want to tell you the details."

"I get it. Hands and feet cut off, cryptic symbol carved into his chest?"

Her eyes widened. "You're not saying that's how he—"

"No, ma'am. Dean died saving the world. From Dick Roman," Sam couldn't resist adding.

"The billionaire philanthropist?" Missouri shook her head. "Doesn't surprise me. Whenever he came on the television all I could see was folks lined up like cattle, and an ocean of nasty tar. Come on back to the kitchen, Sam. I'll make you an early breakfast."

He followed her into the cozy little kitchen, seating himself at her table. "Emma is an Amazon, but she's definitely a Winchester, too," Sam began, explaining about the all-female tribe of monsters as Missouri fixed a pot of coffee. "But she's really a good kid," he concluded some time later. "Dean did something right, Missouri. Emma left the tribe and she's never given me one reason since not to trust her."

The teenager appeared in the kitchen doorway as Sam was eating breakfast, yawning and blinking in the bright light of the overhead fixture. "Please," she said to Missouri. "I'm sorry that I frighten you. Just tell me where my father is and I'll never bother you again."

The psychic set down her coffee cup and looked off into the distance, her eyes becoming unfocused for a moment. Sam was impressed by how little fanfare Missouri needed to access her abilities.

"He's gone," she said softly, looking to Sam first, sympathy and pain in her gaze. Missouri turned back to Emma. "Let it go, child. I'm sorry, but your father is gone."

Emma tipped her chin up, a stubborn expression settling on her face. "Gone but not dead," she insisted.

"Let it go." Missouri's voice was still soft, but stern now, that same uncharacteristic tone Sam had heard over the phone. "Child, I'm telling you there's nothing good down that path. Blood and death, that's all. A violent, ugly death. You too, Sam, if you don't pay any mind."

She stood and laid a hand on Emma's shoulder, her expression sad. "I'm sorry, Emma, but death comes for all of us. Don't you go rushing it. I know you love your father, but your uncle's right this time."


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you feeling okay to drive?" Sam asked Emma as they headed down Missouri Mosely's sidewalk to the waiting Impala.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Missouri slipped a sedative into your iced tea. You might want to be a little less trusting next time someone offers you a drink," Sam informed her. Even more reason, he thought, to get the kid out of the life. Hunters and their associates, people who knew about the supernatural, would never understand Emma. They'd always see her as a monster. A threat, and in return, they'd always be a threat to her.

He fell asleep easily as the car rolled down the highway. Waking a couple of hours later, Sam knew immediately that something was wrong. A lifetime spent criss-crossing the country had left him with a mental roadmap as detailed as any GPS. He blinked as they passed a highway sign.

"We're just outside of Denver," he spoke up, keeping his voice neutral. Emma had made a mistake, but no real harm done, Sam reasoned. If they headed south through Amarillo they'd make it home without losing too much time. He suppressed a chuckle, imagining his own father's reaction. John Winchester wouldn't have hesitated to express his annoyance at the delay...In no uncertain terms.

"Yeah, I figured we'd head north and meet up with interstate ninety," Emma explained.

Which was no explanation at all, Sam thought, baffled. "Emma? Where are we going?"

"The cabin," she said, glancing over at him with an expression just as confused as his own. "We're going to need Uncle Bobby's books, unless you already know a soul-bonding ritual off the top of your head."

Apparently there'd been a breakdown in communication somewhere along the way. Sam resisted the urge to sigh and waited for the next series of exit signs to appear. "Okay, pull off here. We can switch drivers… After you tell me what the hell you're talking about now."

* * *

><p>"Say again?" Sam tipped his head back and took a long pull of beer. He had the feeling he was going to need it.<p>

"Dad's in Purgatory," Emma repeated patiently. "Come on, Sam, it makes perfect sense. That's where the Levis came from in the first place. That's where monsters go when they die. And you heard Missouri. She said Dad was 'gone'. She never said dead. He got dragged into Purgatory when he killed Dick Roman. Castiel, too." Emma beamed at him. "We've just got to go in and get them out."

His pulse sped up as she spoke, his mind reeling. Looking at Dean's daughter's face, so full of confidence and joy, Sam wanted to believe. He quashed the thought. The last thing Emma needed was for him to jump on this bandwagon without thinking everything through first. He had to keep a clear head.

"And the soul-bonding? How does that factor in?"

"Well, obviously hunters don't get dragged into Purgatory every time they gank a monster. So unless you want to try and build another God-weapon…" Emma said, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She leaned back on the warm trunk of the Impala and took a swallow of her own drink, a small, locally bottled brand of root beer made with pure cane sugar. Sucrocorp had gone belly-up after Dick Roman's demise, but Sam was still wary of tainted corn syrup.

He sipped his beer, pondering the phrasing of his next question. Sam was used to being acknowledged as the brains of the operation. It was annoying to have his niece look at him as if he had some sort of intellectual impairment.

"So we soul-bond and I gank you," he said, keeping his tone casual with an effort, "and get hauled into Purgatory in your soul's slipstream, is that it?" Emma nodded. "Great plan, Emma, except for starters, your soul belongs to the Greek goddess Harmonia, remember? You're not going to monster heaven. Your final destination is... I don't know, probably the Elysian Fields."

"Nah," Emma drawled, with the same defiant nonchalance Dean used to display when refusing to acknowledge that a subject was a painful one. "I just told you guys that so you wouldn't freak out. I'm a monster." She shrugged. "No mythological Greek get out of jail free card for me."

* * *

><p>"I'm not running, Amelia. I told you, I've just got some loose ends to tie up. It's complicated." Sitting on the dilapidated front porch of Rufus Turner's old cabin, Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was the kind of conversation that really needed to be face to face.<p>

"Emma's fine. I think this time away is really going to be good for her," he forged ahead, hoping that that statement was even remotely true. "Yeah, I think this will help her find closure," he agreed. "Listen, Amelia? Thanks for taking care of Riot for me, and, you know," Sam paused awkwardly. "For everything," he concluded. "Yeah...You too...I'll call you soon." I hope, he added to himself as he hung up.

They'd researched soul-bonding, which seemed straightforward enough, and they'd found some evidence in lore about a portal out of Purgatory. That, too, seemed fairly straightforward, Sam thought. Purgatory was never meant for humans. After all, God had created the dimension in order to keep humanity safe.

But still, "It's a lot of ifs, Emma. _ If_ your soul really is destined for Purgatory. _If_ we can find Dean once we get there. _ If_ we can find a way back out. If any of this was easy, you'd have to figure Dean would already be back."

Emma scoffed. "Purgatory's got to be a big place to hold forty million souls. And don't forget, Dad's got to fight his way through all those monsters to get to the portal. That's why he needs us to come help him."

Sam chuckled humorlessly. Emma's family loyalty was unwavering. She'd convinced him, he thought, but his stomach churned with nausea at the thought of what they would have to do.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Uncle Sam?"<p>

"Hmm?" He looked up from the worn scrap of parchment he'd been reviewing for what felt like the hundredth time, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Emma had never called him uncle before. And she'd better not plan on making a habit of it, either, he thought dryly. He wasn't about to share a name with America's goateed, top-hatted patriotic symbol.

"Can I get an anti-possession tattoo, like yours and Dad's?"

"I really don't think you getting possessed is going to be a problem where we're going, Em."

"I know, but it's our last day on earth," she wheedled.

"That's my point. There's no demons in Purgatory," Sam pointed out again.

"Yeah, but you just know Dad's never going to let me get a tattoo. I figure this is pretty much my only chance," Emma grinned.

"No way," Sam laughed. "Dean would kill me!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Wow, thanks for all the follows, favorites, and extra thanks with pie on top for the reviews. I really appreciate the support and encouragement!<em>

_By the way, if you're looking for another great family-centric story, check out _nani'anela_'s fic _Paint It Black_, featuring Baby the Impala. _


	5. Chapter 5

Sam woke up wild-eyed and panting, stifling a cry of pure anguish. He shook his head as the nightmare receded, pushing his hair out of his eyes and blinking in the soft sunlight filtering through the dusty windows of the cabin. Rising from the old leather sofa where he'd spent the night, Sam padded on bare feet to the alcove where Emma slept on a folding cot. He gave the teen's quilt-covered shoulder a gentle shake.

"Rise and shine."

It didn't take long to get ready. Less than half an hour later, they descended the rickety stairs to the basement. Sam had a machete in a canvas holster strapped across his back along with his usual assortment of concealed weapons. Emma's Amazon blade was tucked into the sleeve of her favorite of Dean's old shirts.

"Kevin was right," she remarked cheerfully as they reached the plastic tarp Sam had thrown down on the floor, "this really does look like a sex-torture dungeon."

He rolled his eyes as he rolled up his sleeve. "Shut up. This is awkward enough already." Sam paused with the blade of his knife resting on his forearm. "Emma, I'm not so sure about this. My soul is—"

"Kind of mangled?" Emma offered.

"Yeah, and we don't know how long the bond will last. This might hurt you," he warned, but predictably, Emma was already shaking her head.

"It'll be fine, Sam." She drew out a pocket knife and they each cut a shallow gash across their forearms with typical Winchester stoicism. Sam recited the soul-bonding incantation as they pressed the bleeding wounds together. A flash of light emanated from the spot where the blood mingled, a brilliant glow that radiated up their arms before gradually fading away. At least there was proof that the spell had worked, he thought, relieved to see that Emma wasn't immediately harmed by bonding with his damaged soul.

"Ew, that was creepy," she chirped, rolling her sleeve back down over the wound, which appeared to have been cauterized by the magical radiance. "I hope this doesn't mean that we're, like, married now, Sam, because I'm positive that's illegal in all fifty states."

Sam couldn't help but smile even as he rolled his eyes again in exasperation. The wisecracking was so reminiscent of Dean. He knelt down, sitting back on his heels as Emma settled on her knees in front of him. Sam had spread out the plastic tarp on the floor beneath them with his usual fastidious attention to detail. If this worked, there wouldn't be anyone left to clean up the blood and bury the remains. Sam pushed the unpleasant thought from his mind.

"You don't have to go through with it if you don't want to, Emma. Dean would never ask this of you."

"It's okay." She lifted her chin, defiant. "I'm not scared."

"Well, I am." He felt the hot sting of gathering tears and roughly pulled her into an A-frame of a hug, his arm wrapped tight around her shoulders.

"On the count of three, Sam," she mumbled against his chest. "And just so we're clear, it's one-two-three and _then_ stab, not one-two and stab on three, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, chuckling through his tears. "And Em? Just in case I don't get to tell you later, you're a great kid. I—"

"Oh, gross," Emma protested, cutting him off.

Her voice broke a little and Sam felt a tell-tale wetness where her face was pressed against his shirtfront. She started to say something else, but he clenched his eyes shut, consciously contorting his face into a grimace to confine the muscle tension that might otherwise telegraph his intent. Sam eased Emma away from him slightly and slid the knife up under her ribs, a swift, efficient killing blow.

Her eyes flared, pupils blown wide surrounded by an inhuman ring of bone white, but they were already glazed over, unseeing. Blood bubbled up from her lips. For a long moment Sam was back in his nightmare, alone in the basement cradling his brother's dead child in his arms, a howl of guilt and remorse building up in his chest. Then he felt himself seized in a crushing grip and yanked away into oblivion.

He came to with his head lolling on Emma's shoulder. For a few seconds Sam was utterly disoriented. His body seemed to be floating. His niece was carrying him, he realized with a start of embarrassment. Her superhuman strength let her lift him as easily as if he was a toddler, but his six-foot-five frame was clearly an awkward burden for the teen. His toes were dragging on the ground behind her, jouncing over rocks and fallen logs as she strode through an eerie twilight landscape.

"Um, Emma? You can put me down now."

"Whew. I thought you'd never wake up."

Her hair was disheveled and there was a spatter of dried blood across her face, Sam saw as he dusted himself off, trying to regain his dignity. Not her own blood, he noted with relief. There was no sign of the mortal wound he'd inflicted on her, but she'd obviously already tangled with at least one monster.

"I'd get out that machete if I were you," Emma told him with a feral grin, her own long-bladed Amazon knife dangling easily in her grip.

Sam heard a rustle of dried leaves behind him and whirled toward the sound, drawing the machete from its sheath as he turned. In his peripheral vision he saw Emma drop into a fighting stance beside him. He barked out a humorless laugh, baring his teeth in an intimidating grin of his own. They'd done it.

"Welcome to Purgatory."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: short snow day update because I totes love you guys. <em> ;)

_Muchas gracias to_ nani'anela, Psychee, 'guest', CatastrophicCarnival, artemis lover, _and_ Rose-MaxareBadass _for taking time out of their busy lives to review!_


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me what you know about the angel Castiel." Sam had the werewolf up against a tree, pinned to the trunk with one of his knives stabbed through the creature's shoulder.

The filthy, bearded man snarled and spat. "I don't know about any angel!"

He struggled and Sam twisted the blade, drawing a keening whine of pain from the creature's throat. "What about my brother? A hunter, Dean Winchester?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know."

Sam stepped back, swinging his machete in one fluid motion, decapitating the werewolf. He was cleaning his blades on the creature's ragged jacket when the sound of fighting had him whipping around and running back toward where he'd left Emma on guard duty.

She'd already dispatched the monster in the few seconds it took Sam to get to her.

"What was that?" she asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust. The creature's mouth gaped open, revealing brown, rotted teeth. Its skin was patchy and decaying.

"Rugaru," Sam said, looking the pathetic corpse over. "It's a genetic mutation, near as we can tell. They start out human, but sooner or later they turn cannibal and transform into wormy little flesh-eaters."

"Ugh, gross," Emma groaned, but he could see pity in her expression along with the horror.

Sam suspected she was remembering the Amazon initiation ritual where she and her sisters had been forced to consume human flesh. Emma had been a strict vegetarian ever since. Fortunately, neither of them had felt any need to eat since their arrival in Purgatory. They didn't seem to need sleep, either, though Sam could already feel the strain of mental fatigue.

They'd been in Purgatory three days, if the cycle of light and darkness was an accurate indicator of the passage of time. The days never brightened past an eerie twilight than bleached the landscape gray. The only real color in Purgatory's forest was the red of freshly spilled blood, and even that was a dull maroon. Sam and Emma had fallen into a routine, constantly on the move as long as there was enough light to see by. He'd stopped counting the creatures they'd battled with after the first day. The presence of a human seemed to draw the monsters like flies to carrion, and at least one monster had acknowledged Sam Winchester by name. He'd felt satisfaction at that, knowing that he and Dean and their dad had sent enough monster souls to Purgatory to have earned a reputation for themselves here.

He questioned their attackers any chance he got, looking for leads to help them find Dean and Cas. Sam had Emma stand guard during these interrogations, making her wait out of view of the sights and most of the anguished sounds of his methods of persuasion. So far, she'd seemed to take Purgatory in stride, which worried him. Granted, he was relieved that Emma seemed able to hold her own in the harsh, unforgiving environment, but the long-term effect the relentless brutality would have on the teen was a real concern.

"Let's get going," he said now, putting worry aside in favor of action.

The forest seemed to stretch on forever without variation. Sam and Emma climbed up a steep ridge and made their way along the top of it for a while. Looking down through the trees, they both spotted the river running through the valley below at the same time.

"Awesome," Emma breathed, and would have taken off at a jog, but Sam put a hand on her arm, holding her back.

"Take it easy," he warned. The swift-moving water rushing over the rocky riverbed would be noisy, hiding the sound of an enemy's approach, and like a watering hole on the African savannah, the river crossing would almost certainly attract predators.

Emma rolled her eyes but followed her uncle's lead, approaching the bank with caution. Sam stood guard as she knelt by the water, scanning the woods around them with narrowed eyes. In a minute she returned, drying her face on the hem of Dean's shirt.

"Your turn," she grinned.

It was amazing how good the simple act of splashing water on his face felt. He smiled back at Emma as he rejoined her in the shelter of the trees. Even though neither of them felt any thirst here in Purgatory, simply washing off some of the dirt they'd accumulated had boosted their morale.

They hadn't walked much farther before a rustling had both of them on their guard, weapons at the ready. Castiel appeared about thirty feet in front of Sam, who immediately chastised himself for not recognizing the distinctive sound of angel wings. In his defense, it wasn't something you'd expect to hear in Purgatory.

The sight of the angel made Sam relax enough to ease out of his defensive stance and lower his machete, though three days in this place had taught him the futility of putting the weapon back in its sheath. Castiel was filthy, his iconic trenchcoat and the hospital scrubs he wore beneath it darkened with layer upon layer of grime. His usual dark scruff of stubble had grown enough to count as a real beard, giving Sam a pang of remorse when he thought how long it had taken him to come after him and Dean.

"Hey, Cas." He approached cautiously, feeling as if he might spook him if he moved too suddenly. The angel's face was haggard, his eyes guarded. Like everything else in Purgatory, the wan twilight had robbed them of color, replacing the vivid blue Sam remembered with a dull shade of gray.

"Sam." Castiel inclined his head in greeting. "I would say that it is good to see you, but under the circumstances I feel that the usual social conventions do not apply."

"Yeah, I'd rather neither of us were here," Sam chuckled, "but it's still good to see you, too."

Castiel seemed more normal, more sane, Sam thought, than he'd been in a long time. "Where's Dean?" he had to ask. Although it made sense for the angel to fly on ahead, seeing Cas without his brother right there with him was setting off alarm bells in Sam's head.

"I do not know. I have not seen Dean in some time," Castiel intoned, his lack of emotion drawing an incredulous huff of breath from Sam.

"You don't know? Did you two get separated? What happened?"

"An angel in Purgatory draws a great deal of attention," Castiel explained. "I deemed it safer for Dean if we split up."

Sam suppressed a sigh. Once Cas had appeared he'd been hoping for a speedy reunion with his brother. Now it seemed that that wouldn't be the case after all.

"Heads up," Emma said tersely, effectively stopping the deluge of questions Sam wanted to inundate Castiel with. The Winchesters moved to stand back to back, a reaction that was quickly becoming instinctive. By contrast, Cas disappeared in a rustle of wings.

"Cas? Damn it," Sam muttered, but there was no time for him to react further. An entire nest of vampires advanced through the trees, and like just about everything else in Purgatory, their expressions were far from friendly.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Okay, cards on the table, Benny Lafitte will not be appearing in this story. I know, I love Benny, but if you think about it, in canon Benny fills Emma's role as the monster who becomes family. In fact after obsessing over Emma for half of season 7 like a complete loon, I almost gave up on writing an Emma fic at all after season 8 came out, because Benny was the reason Dean started seeing monsters as people, he was the reason for the conflict between Dean and Sam, he was the reason Dean was able to escape from Purgatory, etc, etc. He did away with any need for Emma to exist except as an excuse for daddy!Dean fluff. So it was really one or the other and obviously, I chose Emma. My apologies for any disappointment.<em>

_I have been toying with the idea of including him in a cameo, just because I do love the guy so, so much, but whether that happens is up to you. Please feel free to review or PM and let me know if you've got a preference one way or the other._

_Finally, thanks to everyone who has followed and favorited, and to_ CatastrophicCarnival, Mayrem, 'Guest', CommChatter, nani'anela, , Olivia Crane, opi, RHatch89, kitkatthecat, _and_ reddevil47 for being so lovely and kind as to review.


	7. Chapter 7

The vampires—half a dozen of them—closed in, forming a loose circle around them. Sam's heart plummeted as he watched them stalk forward with casual grace, as if he and Emma posed no real threat at all. It was impossible to tell which one might be their leader. They moved in concert and had obviously been fighting together as a unit for a very long time. It was too bad Castiel had decided to take off, he thought bitterly. They could have used the help.

One of the vamps feinted at him with a crude blade fashioned out of some sort of dark metal. Sam didn't take the bait. Behind him, one of the others must have made a similar move toward Emma. Sam cursed silently as the teenager dashed out to engage her attacker. The remaining vampires swiftly took advantage and closed in, separating them.

Sam could only hope Emma would be able to hold her own as three vampires rushed him, baring their fangs. He swung his machete, metal ringing against metal as the one who had attacked initially parried. He barely had time to turn and knock aside a blow from yet another attacker. Behind him, Sam heard the clang of Emma's Amazon sword meeting an opponent's blade.

Then he felt a phantom breeze brush his cheek and heard that distinctive rustling sound. Castiel reappeared, cleanly beheading a vampire with one swift stroke of his sword. Sam turned, trusting Cas to have his back while he helped Emma. The teen was fighting a big, brutish-looking vamp armed with a crude weapon that looked like a cross between a battle-axe and a carburetor. She looked hopelessly outmatched: if Sam had been under the mistaken impression that she was a normal girl, he might have been in genuine fear for her life.

As it was he was only mildly concerned as she ducked beneath a swing of the clumsy axe and slashed at the blood-sucker's legs. Sam aimed for the vampire's neck with his machete, a blow the vampire managed to parry, but Emma took advantage of the distraction her uncle had provided and slashed his throat from behind.

Sam jumped back, but not before getting thoroughly spattered with blood. Emma, with her superhuman strength, had damn near severed the vampire's spinal cord. A glance back at Castiel, and Sam saw that the angel had dispatched another vampire while his back had been turned. The remaining three took off running.

"Thanks—" he started to say, but Castiel shook his head, cutting him off.

"Get out of here. Now. Run!"

Sam and Emma exchanged a look. The angel had his head cocked to one side, as if listening for some sound beyond the range of their hearing. His face was taut with anxiety. "What's going on?" Sam demanded.

Castiel huffed out a sigh as a black comet trailing a tail of smoke behind it streaked through the trees toward them. "Leviathan," he said, resigned.

The ball of black goo hit the ground, throwing Emma and Sam off balance and leaving a shallow crater in which the goo quickly rose upright, forming itself into a humanoid shape. Another comet zoomed in and crash landed in the same fashion, black goo shaping itself into the form of a woman in a crisply tailored suit. The first Leviathan, a male, was equally well-dressed, the pair's black business attire looking utterly incongruous in Purgatory's backcountry forest setting. They drew long-bladed knives and advanced on Castiel.

By unspoken agreement Sam and Emma engaged the female, who opened her mouth obscenely wide to reveal a face full of sharp, jagged teeth as they advanced. She didn't stand a chance. Sam struck her shoulder with his machete, a blow that chopped her torso almost in two. Emma swung her Amazon blade and lopped off the Leviathan's head.

A metallic screech had Sam whirling back to assist Castiel, who stood locked in combat, his angel sword hung up on the knife wielded by the male Leviathan as each struggled to break free and take a fresh swing at the other. Sam's machete sliced cleanly through the Leviathan's neck.

Castiel immediately began chopping the creature into pieces. Judging by his reaction, Sam thought, they must still possess the ability to reassemble themselves here in Purgatory. Emma followed suit, hacking a leg off the female Leviathan and kicking it away from the corpse. Sam frowned as he watched her. He'd gotten used to seeing her eyes flare during combat, but this time the coloring had yet to fade, leaving a ruddy, inhuman flush around wild, bone-white eyes. There was a spatter of dark blood across one cheek and a smear of black goo on her forehead, but it was her expression that Sam found the most disturbing. The teenager looked vengeful, a half-crazed Greek goddess of retribution.

"Emma. It's okay. I've got this," he said quietly, moving to place a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off impatiently and aimed a vicious kick at the Leviathan's decapitated head. Sam thought he understood. They'd been battling these creatures for the entirety of Emma's short life. The Leviathans had robbed Emma of any semblance of normalcy Dean might have otherwise been able to give her, and ultimately, they'd taken him away from her, too. Even so, seeing the bloodlust lingering in those inhuman eyes was unsettling.

"Emma," he tried again, and when the girl didn't answer Sam resorted to his best drill-sergeant dad impersonation. "I said I've got this," he barked. "Stand down. Now!"

Chastened, she backed off and sat down to rest on a fallen log. Sam took care of dismantling the rest of the female's corpse, giving Emma a moment to collect herself. He was relieved to see her coloring had returned to normal after a minute or two. Castiel kicked the male Levi's head away from its body and walked over.

"I see now why you didn't stick with Dean," Sam offered.

"He has a better chance without me shining like a beacon for every Leviathan in Purgatory," Castiel said gravely. "Keep following the river," he advised. "If I can locate Dean I will send him in your direction."

"Why don't you stay with—Damn it, Cas!" Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration as, once again, the angel disappeared in a rustle of unseen wings. He sighed. Some things never changed. Walking back to Emma, Sam dropped down next to her. "Hey. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam." Her tone was dismissive. Emma hopped to her feet. "Let's go."

Sam suppressed another sigh as he followed her. There was another thing that never seemed to change.

* * *

><p>"We're never going to find him, are we?"<p>

They'd just finished fighting off a pair of Vetalas. Emma's eyes darkened back to their human coloration as she wiped her blade on the monster's clothing.

"I was hoping Cas would have at least had a lead on Dean by now," Sam admitted. In the two days since they'd run into the angel he'd waited impatiently for word of his brother. Now it was clear that Emma had been waiting, too. Hope was cruel, Sam thought. They'd both fallen prey to the hope that their search would soon be accomplished.

"That doesn't mean we won't find him, Emma." Sam finished cleaning his knife and walked over to his niece, suppressing his own doubts. It wouldn't do any good for both of them to give in to despair. "Come on, buck up. It hasn't even been a full week," he told her bracingly, pulling her against his side in a one-armed hug. Predictably, she shrugged it off.

Sam followed as the teenager led the way through the trees, the river off to their right. After another half hour of walking the deepening twilight began to play tricks on his eyes. Shadows lengthened, seeming to take on the shapes of any number of monsters moving stealthily between the trees, making his already-heightened nerves jangle. Sam was about to call a halt when Emma stopped walking ahead and moved back to stand close to him.

"Want to stop for the night?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Yeah." Another flicker of shadow and Sam held up a hand, instinctively placing himself between the teenager and the possible threat. His eyes narrowed as he squinted through the trees. There was definitely something out there, slipping from the cover of one tree trunk to the next.

The strain of the last few days overwhelmed Sam and he huffed out an aggrieved sigh. Really? Another monster to battle, now? Just when they were about to settle down for a few hours of rest? Motioning for Emma to stay put, Sam stepped out into the open. Okay, so maybe trash-talking whatever was lurking in the gathering darkness wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had, but the days of futile searching were wearing on Sam's nerves.

"Hey," he called out. "I've got better things to do than watch you stumble around out there. You're not stealthy and you're not fooling anyone, so let's get this over with." He glared into the woods, his ever-present machete swinging lightly in his grip.

There was a snort of laughter. "...Sammy?"

Sam blinked. "Dean? Dean!"

"Sam!"

"Dean!" Sam forced out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

"Dad!" Emma bolted past him and tore into the woods.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Thank you for all the feedback! I have tried to take it into account. Personal thanks goes out to<em> Mayrem, CommChatter, Rose-MaxareBadass, , nani'anela, CatastrophicCarnival, reddevil47, RHatch89, opi, vsncheze, kitkatthecat, _and_ Olivia Crane _(x2!) for your reviews. _

_Next up, family reunion and Dean's inevitable critique of Sam's surrogate parenting efforts. ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

Sam reveled in a moment of perfect happiness and contentment as he watched his brother's reunion with his daughter. Emma slammed into her dad with enough force to stagger him back a few steps. Dean picked her up and swung her around, like the little girl she still was at heart, Sam thought, and felt the lump in his throat give way to tears. Then Emma picked Dean up and swung him in a giddy circle of her own, both of them laughing like lunatics.

"Sammy!"

The demand in his brother's voice was unmistakable. Sam crashed through the underbrush to join the insanity, crushing Dean to him in a bear hug, one that Dean returned with enough exuberance to knock the wind out of them both. Then, by silent accord, they broke apart just enough for Dean to haul Emma into the embrace.

"Ugh, let me go, you two _aspis adelphai,_" she protested, giggling, but Sam just tousled her filthy, matted hair and hugged his family even tighter.

* * *

><p>Morning found them walking through the endless trees, following the river. Dean stalked in the lead in sullen silence. Sam brought up the rear, resigned. His brother hadn't asked too many questions last night, and Emma had deflected the few he had. Sam had been grateful for the respite, but now it was obvious that Dean had worked out just how he'd managed to find his way into Purgatory. Sam watched his brother lead the way, armed with a crudely-forged blade, the handle of which appeared to be a femur. Anger radiated from the set of his shoulders. Suppressing a sigh, Sam knew it was only a matter of time before that seething emotion erupted into harsh words, even violence.<p>

But first, a faint whine overhead signaled incoming violence of the non-fraternal variety. All three Winchesters instinctively moved back to back, allied seamlessly against the Leviathans. Two of them this time, Sam saw as the inky comets hit with an impact that shook the forest floor and twin columns of black goo arose, taking on the unlikely form of businessmen in dapper black suits. Maybe the Leviathans traveled in pairs in Purgatory, or maybe, Sam thought dryly, they were just lucky. The two monsters opened their mouths impossibly wide, displaying rows of vicious fangs, and advanced. Dean and Emma moved in perfect synchronization to drive them back, and Sam felt a fierce pulse of pride run through him at the sight. He'd taught Emma to fight like that, the same way his father had taught him and Dean.

Sam put the thought aside and joined the battle. The Leviathans were no match for the Winchesters and it was over quickly. He hacked the taller of the two males into pieces and scattered them, standing and arching his back in a well-deserved stretch when the unpleasant business was finished.

"Hey," Dean barked at Emma, and for a moment Sam thought his brother was expressing concern at the teen's gleeful dismemberment of the other Levi. But no, Sam saw, he'd caught a glimpse of the tattoo she'd acquired just before they'd left for Purgatory.

"What the hell is this?" Dean yanked up the hem of Emma's shirt to glare at the offending design inked across her lower back.

"Dad. It's no big deal, just an anti-possession sigil, like yours and Sam's." She squirmed, trying to evade her father's grasp, but Dean held her in place with his hand fisted in the fabric of her shirt.

"You let Emma get a tattoo?" he accused Sam. "You let my daughter get a_ tramp stamp_?"

"Hey," Emma protested, "I wanted to put it where it wouldn't show... And it kind of wouldn't fit anywhere else," she added guiltily.

It wasn't just the standard interlaced five-pointed star surrounded by flames. Emma's tattoo included ornate flourishes and a Latin inscription in fancy lettering. Privately Sam had thought it was all more than just a bit too much, but she'd wheedled and begged and it_ had_ been their last night on earth…

"Dammit, Sammy, I thought I could trust you. You were supposed to look after her!"

Sam was about to offer a retort, but stopped when Dean narrowed his eyes, lips moving as he read over the Latin phrase. _Non timebo mala_, it began, 'I will fear no evil', the words of the ancient psalm inscribed on Samuel Colt's legendary gun. At Emma's insistence—and with Sam providing the translation—the tattoo artist had added 'for I am the meanest monster in the valley'.

"Dude." Dean instilled the single syllable with withering disgust. "You didn't even get the conjugation right."

Sam was pretty sure that he had, but now was probably not the best time to debate the finer points of Latin grammar with his irate big brother. Although the fact that Dean was more than capable of debating the finer points of Latin grammar just went to show that he wasn't half as dumb as he pretended to be.

But Dean had finally dropped the hem of Emma's shirt, letting the teenager go in favor of striding toward Sam, fists clenched. "You know, I could maybe understand if she'd run off and got inked on her own, Sammy, but you went along with it? You were supposed to be the adult," he raged.

"You'd understand if Emma had run off? Really?" Sam's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Well, that's good, because actually she did run away. Three times." It was petty, Sam knew, but he felt a little flare of satisfaction when Dean's eyes widened.

"I caught her the first time, but I've got to tell you, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, because the second time she made it all the way to New Orleans. Using stolen credit cards," Sam added with relish. "Like I said, apple;tree. Oh, and the third time, I didn't even have a lead on where she'd run off to until Missouri Moseley called me to come pick her up...After she'd found out Emma wasn't human and knocked her out with drugged iced tea," Sam added as an afterthought. Dean's face had darkened, but under Purgatory's lighting conditions it was hard to tell if his cheeks were red or merely pink.

"Um, Sam?" Emma was eyeing her father's complexion too.

"Quiet, Emma Jo." Dean stalked another step closer to Sam. "She ran away to Missouri? Why?"

"Well, technically, she ran away to Kansas, but she consulted Missouri to find out how to bring you back, of course… Which involved a soul bond, by the way, and we both know mine is kind of trashed, but hey," Sam deadpanned, "once you commit to stabbing your brother's monster kid though the heart so you can ride her into Purgatory, little details like defiled souls and tramp stamp tattoos kind of lose their significance."

Definitely purple now, Sam thought as Dean let out a bellow of pure rage and punched him.

Sam sidestepped the uppercut—honestly, he'd have to have been blind, stupid, and drunk not to have seen that one coming after taunting Dean into a fury—and landed a couple eminently satisfying punches of his own before Dean's fist connected with his jaw, leaving him blinking away the stars that swam in his vision.

"Stop it!" Emma yelled, stepping in and using her Amazon strength to hold them apart at arm's length. "Dad, Sam, please. Stop fighting. Save it for the monsters," she pleaded.

Dean squirmed, a move uncannily similar to Emma's recent attempt to wriggle out of his grip when he'd discovered her tattoo, but now the tables were turned. Sam snickered, but stopped himself at a significant glance from Dean.

"Okay," the brothers chorused, united for the moment against a common enemy. Emma looked skeptical, but Sam raised his hands in a soothing gesture and Dean nodded reassuringly.

"We're done," Sam said, mentally adding, _almost _as he felt Emma loosen her grip.

"In just a minute," Dean clarified as she stepped back, and the fight was on again.

"You're both insane," Emma huffed, and moved off to a safe distance to let them duke it out.

* * *

><p>"She really stole your girlfriend's credit card to buy a bus ticket to New Orleans?" Dean grinned, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve.<p>

"Uh-huh. Except Amelia's not exactly my girlfriend." Sam probed his split lip with his tongue, tasting blood.

"She is totally Sam's girlfriend," Emma told her dad, sidling over to join the conversation.

"Is not," Sam couldn't help but retort, even knowing it was pointless.

"Is too," father and daughter chimed.

Sam snorted a laugh and shook his head, conceding defeat. At least the brawl over Emma's tattoo had earned him a respite from his brother's ire. As if reading his mind, Dean reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Let's go find Cas and get the hell out of here."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Thanks for the oodles of review-dles, labradoodles! Okay, I might be a little bit punch-drunk myself after that chapter, but sincere thanks to<em> RHatch89, Mayrem, CommChatter, Rose-MaxAreBadass, opi, Olivia Crane, , _and_ reddevil47 _anyway. _

_Up next, as if Leviathans and a missing angel aren't enough to contend with, Emma attracts the attention of some of Purgatory's Amazons. _


	9. Chapter 9

Sam watched Emma as they made their way along yet another tree-lined ridge in Purgatory's endless grey forest. The change in the teen was striking since she'd been reunited with her father. The surly attitude Sam had been dealing with for months was gone. In spite of the dangers they faced nearly minute by minute in Purgatory, Emma was clearly genuinely happy. Sam could certainly understand why as he watched Dean stride along in the lead. The gloomy surroundings couldn't put a damper on his own euphoria. After the long, lonely months of thinking Dean was dead and gone, Sam had his brother back.

Dean and Sam had quickly agreed that their best course of action would be to head toward the portal. There was no point in trying to find Castiel if the angel didn't want to be found. If he hadn't returned to them by the time they located the portal, well, Sam thought philosophically, they'd deal with that when the time came.

"So we just keep heading east?" he asked Dean when they'd stopped to rest after a brief fight with a lone Leviathan.

"East and then northeast, into some higher ridges. I didn't get the sense that the portal is any big secret," Dean said. "It's supposed to be this glowing passage that opens up at the top of a hill. I've questioned a lot of monsters about it and their stories have all matched so far."

"Makes sense," Sam shrugged. "Nobody but humans can pass through it, so keeping it secret from the monsters here would be pointless."

They pressed on, descending into a valley when the ridge they'd been following ended in a sheer cliff. At the worst possible place—and wasn't it always the worst possible place? Sam thought cynically—where the valley narrowed into a ravine and the trees closed in thickly around them, an ululating cry echoed from above them.

"The hell was that?" Dean growled as a second call answered.

"Amazons," Emma breathed.

"Battle cry?" Sam queried, "Or some sort of signal?"

"It's not a mating call," Dean smirked. "I'd know that one if I heard it again."

"Gross," Sam and Emma chorused just before the first voice sounded again, seeming closer this time, but the disconcerting wail echoed off the walls of the ravine, making it impossible to pinpoint the warrior woman's location.

The brothers exchanged a wordless look and started jogging toward the end of the ravine, intent on getting to higher ground before a confrontation could occur, Dean steering Emma with a hand at the small of her back for the first few steps.

"Emma?" Sam asked again as they dodged around the heavy undergrowth.

She shrugged helplessly as the call and response echoed above them again. "I don't know. My sister initiates and I just did it for fun when we were sparring."

Sam and Dean exchanged another one of those looks. "Call back, see how they react," Sam suggested.

At Emma's own questioning look Dean nodded. "Couldn't hurt. Even if you piss them off, well…" He grinned cockily. "At least they'll be pissed off."

Nodding solemnly, the teenager drew a deep breath and let out a loud, high-pitched yell, somehow producing the same uncanny wavering sound as the women warriors stalking them through the woods. Emma's hand covered her mouth, preventing Dean and Sam from seeing just how she did it. The cry was immediately echoed from both sides of the ravine. Emma's ululation had definitely gotten a reaction, though it was impossible to tell if it was good or bad.

"Come on, up the hill," Dean urged, and they pushed on, gaining the crest of the next ridge just as a flash of movement to their left had him whirling to face it, sighting along the crude blade of his weapon, eyes narrowed intimidatingly.

Sam whipped around to face to the right as a second flash of movement caught his eye. The two men backed up, instinctively positioning themselves between Emma and this latest threat, moving to stand back to back as they scanned the thick forest. Emma was literally bouncing on her toes with excitement, craning to try and catch a glimpse of the Amazons around her father's and uncle's broad shoulders.

The pair stepped out from behind a tree. Sam quickly assessed them. The one on the right appeared to be in her mid-thirties and almost six feet tall. With a wild, unkempt afro adding several additional inches to her height, she made an imposing figure as she stood in an easy fighting stance, brandishing the same distinctive short sword as Emma carried. The other Amazon was younger and shorter, though still older and bigger than Emma, with muscular arms bared by a ragged tank top and close-cropped hair that was probably blonde under the layers of grime. Sam wasn't about to judge the women's personal hygiene. He, Dean, and Emma were equally filthy, liberally caked with dirt and dried blood. Purgatory tended to have that effect, he thought dryly.

"Cowering behind two men, _mikri adelphi_?" the dark-skinned Amazon taunted across the distance between the two groups.

Sam heard a faint intake of breath—his brash older brother preparing to offer a retort—and gave Dean a quelling look as Emma shouldered between them.

"It's not my fault they're bigger than I am, _meghali adelphi_," Emma sassed back.

"Do you think it's wise to provoke them, Em?" Sam murmured. Confident as he was that he and Dean could kill the Amazons if it came down to a fight, he'd rather avoid it, for Emma's sake. Like it or not, these two women were Emma's distant relatives.

"They're already provoked," Emma whispered back with a shrug.

"Yeah, Sammy, Amazons are crazy, man-hating killers, remember?" Dean put in his two cents.

"You died very young, little sister," the taller, older woman, obviously the leader, broke in. Sam thought there was a hint of sympathy in her voice, but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"You can be forgiven much, arriving alone in this fearsome place, but now that we have found you, you can depart from these…"—her lip curled in disdain—"humans. Come, child. Join us."

"Thank you, sister, but with respect—"

"She's staying with us," Dean couldn't resist adding.

The blonde Amazon's eyes flared and her companion laid a hand on her arm, holding her back as she raised her sword. With a scowl, she stood down, but the inhuman coloration and blazing, bone-white eyes didn't fade.

"Have we been dead so long that tribal customs have changed so radically? A mere man speaks for a daughter of Harmonia?"

"No, sister. I can speak for myself!"

Emma's cheeks flushed red and for an instant Sam, glancing down at her, thought her eyes had flared. Then he saw that it was just a normal blush. The teenager was embarrassed. She'd left the tribe behind, but the opinion of the warriors still mattered to her. He gave Dean another warning look. They did _not_ want to engage these women in a fight, not if they could help it.

"Then speak with us privately, _mikri adelphi, _and explain yourself," the leader commanded.

"No way—" Dean blurted, but Sam gave him a furious glare.

"_Dad!_" Emma muttered, mortified. "Let me talk to them. They're my sisters, they're not going to just gank me."

"Let her, Dean. What harm could it do?"

Dean rounded on his brother with a furious glare. "They're not sister, they're strangers. She failed her initiation, Sam, remember? They don't owe her anything."

"So we're going to attack them? Kill them right in front of her?"

Emma's eyes did flare then, and she drew herself up to her full, unimpressive height, which still left her a foot shorter than Sam, the top of her head not even level with his shoulder. "If it comes down to a fight I won't stand and watch, Sam. I'm a Winchester, too. I'll fight them," the teenager said with dignity. She turned to Dean as her eyes gradually reverted to brown. "But I want to try and talk to them first. Please, Dad?"

"Emma Jo." Dean sighed heavily, resigned. "Fine. But either of those crazy bitches makes one wrong move…"

"We're right here, Emma. We've got your back," Sam promised.

With a firm nod, she stepped out from between the two men and walked to meet the Amazons.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Many apologies for the long wait! I should be back in the swing of things and providing regular updates now. Thank you so much for reading, for adding this story to favorites, and especially for reviewing. Big hugs to<em> Mayrem, RHatch89, CommChatter, Rose-MaxareBadass, nani'anela, Olivia Crane, CatastrophicCarnival, Favorite Daughter Of Hades, _and_ elliefrog _for brightening my day with your kind words. _


	10. Chapter 10

The Amazons—three of them, if you counted Emma—stood facing one another warily, swords drawn. Sam and Dean were even more suspicious, ready to charge in at any moment and rescue the teenager from the warrior women. The dark-skinned, imposing leader spoke too quietly for the brothers to make out the words, but her tone was clearly questioning. Emma's replies were just as quiet, but her voice was confident, her gestures emphatic.

Another question, another response from Emma, with the teenager pointing back toward Dean this time, and the blonde Amazon lunged forward, eyes flaring and face twisted in anger. The leader barked a command, her sword flashing up to parry the other Amazon's blade, but Dean had already charged in, his femur-handled blade poised to deliver a vicious attack.

Sam joined them, keeping a watchful eye on the tall Amazon, his own machete gripped in his hand. She barked an order in Greek, and the blonde handed over her sword, hilt first, balancing the blade along her forearm in the same archaic gesture Sam recalled Emma using the night she'd given her sword to Dean… The night she'd failed to complete her initiation and kill him.

"My apologies for this brash and disruptive sister," the leader said, sheathing the blonde's blade at her belt. Her solemn expression lightened and she looked almost amused as she surveyed the two brothers, still poised to defend Emma if necessary. "The little one tells me she decided to reject our tribe. I am surprised you did not kill her yourselves, seeing as the Winchester family is well-known for the number of souls you've sent to Purgatory."

"He wanted to kill me," Emma offered, indicating Sam with a jerk of her chin.

Sam shrugged. "Still do, every now and then," he quipped, his tone dry.

"My sister, here, believes death might have been a better fate for her than to be in thrall to a lowly human male—"

"Keep talking death, sweetheart, and I'll show you what a lowly human can do." Dean brandished his weapon.

"My dad is _not _lowly," Emma argued fiercely. "He's a hero! He saved the world from the Leviathans. That's how he got stuck here in the first place. You might not care about the humans, but the Levis were killing all the monsters on earth, too. My dad saved the tribe!"

"Not on purpose," Dean muttered.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam suggested.

The tall, dignified Amazon looked contemplative. "The Leviathans did manage to escape Purgatory, during the Time of Great Confusion," she murmured.

Sam could only imagine that having one's soul sucked out of its final resting place and carried around inside a megalomaniacal angel would be confusing, and he nodded agreement. "My brother is the one that sent them back."

"So he is an exceptional human," she said. "Still, you threw yourself on the mercy of a male, relied on his protection—"

"Only until my training was complete," Emma argued, "because I knew otherwise the tribe would kill me. I can take care of myself, now," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

Sam and the leader shared a wry look over the teenager's head. "Trained to be a hunter, not a daughter of the tribe," she scoffed lightly. "Still, your case does seem to be exceptional. Walk with me, _mikri adelphi_,and speak for yourself, if you truly can_._"

Dean let out a low growl and took a step forward, Sam hard on his heels. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but the leader gave a wave of her hand and the blonde Amazon dropped to her knees in front of Dean.

"A hostage for Emma's safe return," the leader said negligently.

Once again the brothers were left to fidget and strain their ears as the mismatched pair walked a short distance away. They spoke, the leader calm, Emma animated, as the older woman gestured to the forest ahead. Dean dealt with his frustration by looming over the sullen, stoic Amazon, his blade poised above her bent neck. Sam simply folded his arms and waited, scanning the trees for the possibility of an attack from some totally unrelated monster. It was never a good idea to get too distracted in Purgatory. He turned abruptly at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Hey. What's she doing? Emma Jo?"

Sam caught a glimpse of Emma on tiptoe before the teen stepped back from the much taller Amazon leader.

"Did she just _kiss_ her? Son of a bitch," Dean exploded, "she made a deal... Hey!" he called out, "she doesn't speak for us!"

"They're Amazons, not crossroads demons," Sam argued, but Emma came bounding back across the clearing, her expression a mixture of pride and apprehension.

"It's a good deal, Dad. And I had to speak for all of us," she explained hurriedly. "Mother Amani won't negotiate with men."

"What's the deal?" Sam asked shrewdly, motioning for Dean to hear Emma out. If they didn't like it, he reasoned, they'd just be back where they started… Though with the advantage of a hostage.

"An alliance," Emma said. "A temporary alliance, to benefit both sides. There's a nest of vampires up ahead, on the way to the portal. There's like, eight or nine of them. We team up with the Amazons against the vamps, and in return we get safe passage almost all the way to the portal."

Sam watched the blonde as the leader walked back to join them. The blonde inclined her head in agreement. "It is a good deal," she said. "I will honor it." She stood swiftly and gave Emma a chaste peck on the lips, then turned to share a far more lingering kiss with the leader.

Dean looked deeply disturbed by the exchange. "I'm not kissing any crazy man-killers," he said. "That ship has sailed."

"Oh, gross, Dad." Emma shook her head.

"The treaty has been made," the leader, Amani, intoned. "If either of you males violate it, we will hold Emma accountable."

Sam looked at Dean and shrugged. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" he suggested. Neither would admit it in front of the Amazons, but fighting the warrior women wasn't an option either relished, not with Emma involved. Besides, Sam thought philosophically, if they had to face a big nest of vamps, two more skilled fighters wouldn't hurt.

Dean looked resigned. "We've had worse allies."

* * *

><p>The fragile alliance could easily agree on one thing: it would be suicidally reckless to engage the vampires in the dark. They'd settled down for the night in a shallow cave, little more than a cleft at the base of a rocky cliff, but a spot the five of them could easily defend.<p>

The blonde Amazon, Eleni, had taught Emma a game that seemed to combine the rules of mumbledypeg and a nameless hand-slapping game Sam vaguely remembered from the elementary school playgrounds of his childhood. From what Sam could tell, it was violent, childish, stupid, and, predictably, Dean was winning. The three continued playing long after it was too dark to even see if their knives had hit the makeshift target.

Beside him, Amani chuckled as the sound of a slap rang out in the darkness, accompanied by a grumble from Dean, who had apparently lost a round to Eleni. "Our kind reach physical maturity quickly," she mused quietly, "but the mind and emotions require more nurturing that sometimes, I fear, the tribe fails to provide."

"What happens to the girls who don't pass their initiations?" Sam meant young Amazon girls who arrived in Purgatory, killed, he assumed, by their own fathers in self-defense, or by the tribe in retaliation for their failure.

"Most of us feel they have already served a harsh enough punishment," Amani replied. "They suffer no more here than any other member of the tribe."

Sam nodded, though he doubted Amani could see the gesture in the dark of Purgatory's moonless night. Emma's eventual fate, an eternity in Purgatory, had been weighing heavily on his mind. Dean's too, he was sure. At least she wouldn't be rejected by the Amazons, he thought, but that thought was cold comfort.

"Did you have a daughter?" he couldn't resist asking Amani.

"I never conceived...Though not for lack of trying."

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured, feeling awkward.

"You shouldn't be," she pointed out dryly. "If I had had a daughter, she would have been the death of at least one of your kind."

Sam laughed incredulously, liking the warrior woman in spite of himself.

"I have no regrets," Amani went on. "I generally found the mating duty enjoyable," she added in a low tone, "as long as I was paired with a tall, good-looking man." Sam startled as he felt her hand brush his thigh, and the Amazon leader let out another soft, throaty chuckle. "Not interested, Sam?"

"Er...Thanks, but no thanks, Amani." If Dean caught wind of this, he thought ruefully, he'd never let him live it down.

* * *

><p>The wan light of dawn found Emma and Eleni leaning against one another, asleep. None of them ever seemed to tire, but the constant threat of attack led to mental fatigue. Sam thought he might have dozed off himself for a few moments. Amani chuckled at the sight and Dean just shook his head.<p>

"You're being pretty diplomatic with the crazy man-killers," Sam murmured softly as they took stock of their weapons, giving the two youngest members of the party a few more minutes of peace.

Dean shrugged. "I don't mind trying to get along, for Emma's sake. Like Amani said, these crazy man-killers are dead; an eternity here in monster heaven is probably punishment enough."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "That's lenient. You really think that?"

"What am I supposed to do, Sam? My kid is one of them." Dean nudged Eleni none too gently with his boot, indicating the conversation was over. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine. We've got vampires to gank."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Many thanks to<em> RHatch89, Nyx Ro, Spacemonkey52, nani'anela, steelcandy, Angels are Watching Over You, CommChatter, Olivia Crane, elliefrog, whack sparrow, Sage of wind Dragons, CatastrophicCarnival, nmrls, StarTrail, Pinklove21, new21writer, _and_ Loving-The-Originals _for the reviews! I do appreciate them so much and always take your questions, comments, and concrit into account. Thank you so much for the support and I hope you are all having a lovely summer (...or winter if you happen to live in the southern hemisphere.)_


	11. Chapter 11

Soon the odd alliance of hunters and Amazons had moved out, with the two Amazons leading the way. Emma gamboled along between them, sometimes hanging back to stride along beside her father and uncle, other times darting ahead to walk with Amani and Eleni. Sam could overhear them chatting, Ancient Greek phrases interspersed with English. He glanced over at Dean and caught the pained expression on his brother's face, lines of anguish visible beneath the layers of caked-on grime. It didn't matter, Sam thought, that Emma was family, a Winchester. She was also a monster, destined for an eternity in the monsters' afterlife of Purgatory.

"At least now we know she'll have family here to take care of her," he offered, knowing Emma's fate must weigh heavily on Dean, but Dean just grunted, schooling his features to the usual Winchester stoicism.

A short time later something burst out of the cover of the drab, grey underbrush. Werewolf? Shapeshifter? Whatever it was, Emma and Eleni sprang to meet it, Amazon blades slicing it to ribbons before Sam and Dean could get within striking range with their own weapons. Vetala, Sam realized as the hapless creature crumbled to ash. Eleni stifled a battle-cry of triumph at Amani's quelling look, settling instead for exchanging an exuberant high-five with Emma.

"Cut it out," Sam snapped, disturbed by his niece's glee.

"You object?" Amani asked curiously. "Why? It is kill or be killed, here."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean they have to enjoy it."

"Humans used to have a similar concept of the afterlife. Delight in battle all day, in feasting all night," Amani pointed out.

"Valhalla," Sam nodded understanding. "And that's fine, Amani, but Emma's got a long life ahead of her first. One that doesn't involve endless killing."

That elicited an alto chuckle from the Amazon leader. "Strange words from a Winchester. Your name is legend for the number of souls you and your kin sent to this place."

"Yeah, well, speaking of…" Dean shouldered in, changing the subject. "The soul bond. I take it you memorized the incantation?"

"Of course," Sam assured him.

"Teach it to me. I want to transfer that bond to me. Emma's my kid; I should be the one to carry her soul out of here."

"You'll get no argument from me." It made sense, and besides, Sam thought, the less time Emma's soul spent connected to his own mangled and battered one, the better.

* * *

><p>It was midday when the small group reached the outskirts of the territory the Vampires had claimed as their own.<p>

"Good," Dean grunted with satisfaction. "With any luck, they'll be sleeping. We can catch them by surprise."

Even the wan sunlight of Purgatory was bright enough to irritate the Vampires' sensitive eyes, and, Sam thought, it made sense for creatures who could see perfectly in the darkness to be active at night, but Amani shook her head.

"They will not all be sleeping. They'll have lookouts posted. We must be silent, and silence them before they can warn the rest of the nest. Even so, it is unlikely we will take them all by surprise."

"We'll see how it goes. Let's split up. Emma, Sam, you're with me."

Sam recognized the glint in Dean's eye. He'd taken Amani's words as a challenge. The Winchesters moved carefully through the forest, their progress slowed as they avoided rustling leaves or stray twigs that might snap underfoot. Dean gestured, silently indicating a clearing up ahead where a rock formation loomed. Their pace slowed to a crawl as they picked their way over the forest floor, hyper-alert for the promised lookouts.

A faint, sibilant hissing was their only warning. Sam let out a soft, startled "_Oof!"_ as a vampire dropped from a tree limb onto his back. The big hunter instinctively ducked, sending the vampire tumbling over his head, and Dean stepped in with his femur-handled blade and severed the creature's head from its shoulders.

The Amazons weren't so lucky. A high-pitched scream echoed through the clearing before cutting off abruptly in a death rattle. The warrior women had killed their lookout, but not before it had alerted the sleeping nest. Dean cursed softly as vampires began to spill out of a cleft between the boulders. Seven of them, Sam saw as they ran to join the battle. That wasn't so bad. Then he cursed, too, as more followed, their movements sluggish as if they'd just been roused from slumber, but the vampires quickly recovered and arranged themselves in a fighting formation.

The outnumbered humans and Amazons did the same, moving forward slowly as Amani and a short, stocky, female vampire exchanged taunts. Then a male vampire leapt at Sam, fangs bared, and the fight was on. Sam wasted no time severing his attacker's head from its shoulders, moving on to the next opponent as the battle raged around him, glimpses of it catching his attention like images flashed on a television screen: Amani cleaving a vampire nearly in two with her Amazon blade. The female leader hitting Dean with enough force to make him drop his weapon. Emma decapitating her before she could sink her fangs into Dean. Dean retrieving his femur-handled blade and rushing to help Emma defend against two more of the blood-suckers.

Another vampire swung a weapon at Sam and he parried it, the blade of his machete catching on the vampire's blade. Muscles strained as they struggled to tug their weapons free, the vampire hissing and baring its fangs barely an inch from Sam's face. He drew a knife from its sheath inside his jacket and slashed the creature's arm. It fell back with a scream of pain, echoed by the eerie, ululating battle cries of the Amazons. Sam turned the machete in his hand and stepped in, slicing the wounded vampire's head from its neck. It fell, spurting dark crimson onto the monotone scattering of leaves on the ground just as Eleni's harsh yell of triumph fell silent.

Sam watched the Amazon warrior fall, the sword of the vampire she'd just finished off buried to the hilt in her chest.

"_Óhi_!" Amani screamed. She ran to catch Eleni, cradling her in her arms. "No, no, _óhi_, no," she murmured frantically.

Sam saw a tear trace a path through the grime on the Amazon leader's cheek as Eleni shuddered and gasped out her last breath. Emma stifled a sob and clung to Dean. The bodies and severed heads of the vampires lay scattered all around them, blood pooling on the ground, but the victory felt hollow.

"I'm sorry," he told Amani. "We'll help you bury her," he offered, but she stood, drawing her dignity around her like a cloak, and stared back at him, dry-eyed.

"Do you think we monsters can escape our fate so easily, human? My sister will return soon enough, and when she does, she will have her vengeance." The warrior's stern features twisted into a wry, humorless smile. "Thus the cycle continues, forevermore." She held out a hand to Emma. "Come here, kóri."

"Yes, Mother Amani." The teenager had quickly stifled her own tears and stepped to the taller, older woman's side, her expression stoic.

"Emma. Your bargain is fulfilled." Amani turned and pointed. "Continue north along the ridge and you will reach the portal tomorrow." When she looked back at Sam and Dean there was a gleam of humor in her eyes. "Now go, and get these males of yours out of my sight."

Chuckling ruefully, Sam offered the Amazon his hand. After a moment, she took it, returning his handshake with a firm grasp. "Thank you, Amani."

The Winchesters walked away from the clearing, leaving the carnage of the vampire battle behind them. Later, as the sky gradually darkened, heralding Purgatory's colorless version of a sunset, Sam slowed his steps as Dean lagged behind.

"Cas," Sam heard his brother say softly, and he realized Dean was praying, trying to communicate with Castiel. "Cas, we're almost to the portal, buddy. Come on, Cas. It's time to go home."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Thank you to all who so kindly reviewed this off-again, on-again story:<em> jennytork, RHatch89, princessbatbird, nani'anela, whack sparrow, XxXLuvTheOriginalsXxX, Nyx Ro, Star Trail, Trucklady53, CommChatter, CatastrophicCarnival, SonAletaDee, randomcupofnoodles, Olivia Crane, AB Feta, asha74, KittyCaterpillar, fanimeLex, Mewlover, _and_ RuexMytholover. _ I am grateful for the feedback!_


	12. Chapter 12

"We're going to have to fight our way through to the portal."

Sam nodded grimly. The exit from Purgatory glowed enticingly just up the slope from where the Winchesters hid behind a tumble of rocks and a few stunted pine trees, but the way was blocked by a businessman and woman, looking utterly out of place in their immaculate black suits. Leviathan. Thanks to the monsters' hive mind, as soon as the hunters broke cover every Bigmouth in Purgatory would rush to defend the portal. "Cas, if you were planning on making an appearance, now would be a good time," he said dryly, offering up a prayer with no real expectation of a response.

"He'd better get his feathered butt up here," Dean growled. Sam glanced over, seeing the familiar, stubborn set to his brother's jaw, and sure enough, Dean went on, "I'm not leaving without him."

"I am here, Dean." With a muted rustle of feathers, the angel joined them, crouching behind a boulder and peering up the hill at the blue-white glow of the portal.

"Cas. Glad you could make it." Dean gestured to Emma, who scrambled closer. "All right, let's get this show on the road. Ready, Candy Crush?"

The teen nodded, handing over her weapon, which Dean slid into his belt. Sam heard his brother begin the incantation, but his attention quickly shifted to Castiel as the angel drew his sword and murmured, "Incoming."

A moment later Sam's ears picked up the high-pitched whine of the twin Leviathan meteors streaking over their heads. They appeared in the cloudy sky, trailing black smoke and shooting toward the hilltop. The ground shook as they impacted, columns of tarry goo rising up and taking shape. Sam and Cas leapt to their feet and ran to meet them, cutting them down even before they finished taking shape.

The pair guarding the portal hurtled down the hillside to join the fight. The female launched herself at Sam, striking him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and, worse, his machete from his hand. The Leviathan grabbed him, its human-looking face rolling back to reveal a gaping maw lined with fangs and twin tongues that wriggled less than an inch from Sam's face. Then Dean was there, shoving the monster back and hacking her head from her shoulders with his crude Purgatory-forged blade.

There was no time for Sam to process his close call.

"Go!" Castiel shouted as he kicked the severed head of the male Leviathan down the hill. That high, keening whine sounded again and more comets appeared in the sky.

"Where's Emma?"

"I've got her!" Dean pushed Sam toward the light. "Come on!" he bellowed to Castiel.

The ground shook, loose stones dislodging and rolling down the hillside as the Leviathans struck. Sam squinted against the brilliant, gaslight glow of the portal, an unearthly wind kicking up as he approached, whipping his hair back from his face. He paused at the edge, looking back to see Dean just a step or two behind him. His brother had turned back as well and was reaching for Castiel. For a long moment the angel stood there, eyes darting between the humans and the approaching Leviathan. Finally, he clasped Dean's hand.

"I got you! Hold on!"

Sam shut his eyes and shouldered his way through the rift. Behind him, he could hear Castiel calling Dean's name.

"Hold on!" he heard his brother shout again, a note of pleading in his gruff baritone, and then the familiar gravel of the angel's voice answered.

"Go!"

Dean tumbled through the portal and the light winked out. "Sam!" he yelled, frantic.

"I'm here." Sam reached out in the sudden blackness, fingers closing on the sleeve of Dean's jacket. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the scent of evergreens, the softness of pine needles under his body, the dim outline of tree trunks towering all around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Dean groaned and pushed Sam's hand away, gingerly drawing back the fabric from his forearm. A light radiated, shifting restlessly beneath his skin. Emma's soul, Sam realized.

"I couldn't hold him." Dean's voice was raw. "It was like he just gave up and let go."

* * *

><p>"It wasn't your fault," Sam tried, once again, to break through his brother's silent self-recriminations, but Dean just closed his eyes and leaned back, pretending to sleep. Or maybe, Sam thought, he really had dozed off, giving in to exhaustion after hours on the road.<p>

They'd emerged from Purgatory in the backwoods of Maine, and now were making the long drive across the country, back to Rufus Turner's cabin in Montana, at top speed. It seemed that Emma's soul was impatient to be reunited with her body.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Dean. It's not going to be pretty." Sam grimaced involuntarily as Dean opened the door to the cellar and the smell of putrefaction wafted up from the small, enclosed space below.<p>

"You think?" His brother's sarcasm cut off in a hiss of pain. Dean's forearm was swollen, the light beneath the skin pulsing, making the distended flesh shift and contort grotesquely.

It looked, Sam thought, as if it hurt like hell. "Dude, you're about to pop," he told Dean, covering his sympathy-and his discomfort with the entire situation-with a smirk. Brotherly love. "Of all the weird stuff we've been through, this has got to be the weirdest... Watching you give birth."

"Oh, you're hilarious." Dean's boots clumped hollowly on the rickety wooden steps.

Sam followed Dean into the cellar, forcing himself to look dispassionately at Emma's corpse slumped over on the blue tarp, looking small and pathetic. Days had passed and the body had started to decompose. Flies buzzed and a beetle scuttled away across the floor as Dean stepped closer.

"_Anima," _Dean chanted, drawing a knife across the tight-stretched skin of his forearm. It split beneath the blade with a trickle of blood and a thick, bright, molten-looking strand of light oozed from the wound. "_Corpori," _Dean went on, the strain in his voice betraying just how much the ritual must hurt. The light-Emma's soul-continued to slide down Dean's arm and splash onto her corpse. "_Fuerit corpus... Totem resurgent!" _

Staring down at the motionless, pitiful remains of his niece, Sam's mind flashed back to the long moments after he'd killed her, the wave of guilt and horror, the howl of grief and madness rising up in his chest before he'd been yanked away to Purgatory, riding the slipstream of Emma's soul. Several tortured seconds ticked by as he stood there in growing dread. What if the ritual to bring her back to life failed to work?

Dean's attention shifted from the body to the foot of the stairs. "Wow. That was fast," he breathed.

Sam turned to see Emma standing there, whole and alive and dressed in her usual faded jeans, t-shirt, and one of Dean's old button-up shirts. Sam bent down and surreptitiously pulled the tarp over the teenager's corpse, sparing Emma the sight of it as she hurled herself at Dean, her usual reticence forgotten in the excitement.

"Dad!"

"Emma!" The lines of grief and fatigue etching Dean's face relaxed into a grin as he picked her up and spun her around, a grin his brother couldn't help but echo even as he wrapped the tarp around the grisly remnants of their adventure and contemplated the unwelcome task of digging a grave. But none of that really mattered now, Sam thought. He had his family back.

* * *

><p>"What's the word, Sammy?" Dean asked sharply when Sam stepped in off the cabin's front porch. "You get in touch with Kevin?"<p>

It had taken a while, Sam thought, for him to start to feel normal again. To sleep, to eat, to scrub off the grime of Purgatory. Finally, he'd felt halfway human again, normal enough to call Amelia. Sam shook his head at his brother's query. "No," he said now, and would have left it at that, but Emma and Dean were both looking at him with uncannily similar curious expressions. "Amelia," he said, before father or daughter could comment. Easier, he thought, to just get it over with. "Her husband, Don, was in the service in Afghanistan. Missing in action. Presumed dead," Sam recited the details. He shrugged, keeping his face expressionless with an effort. "Turns out, he's alive."

* * *

><p>Sam dozed, woke, stared out the window of the Impala at the woods crowding either side of the rural two-lane road, the wan pre-dawn light robbing the landscape of color. The grey expanse of forest brought back unwanted memories of Purgatory. In the weeks since their return, he still hadn't shaken the place off, and his time there had been measured in days. Dean had been there for months, fighting for his life. It felt right, somehow, his brother had told him. Pure.<p>

The lingering aftermath of Purgatory was probably why they'd spent nearly all their time since on the road in search of jobs. Cases to solve while they waited for Kevin Tran to finish translating the demon tablet. That's right, Sam thought dryly, blame it all on Purgatory. He dozed off again, lulled to sleep by the purr of the big V-8 engine, Dean in the driver's seat, Emma curled up asleep in the back.

A loud thud woke him just after sunrise.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed.

The car had come to a stop. Emma sat up, murmuring sleepily. Sam shook his head, feeling groggy.

"He just came out of nowhere," Dean said helplessly.

Emma opened the car door and leapt out, running back to the body sprawled on the narrow shoulder of the road. Always eager to prove herself, the teen was calmly checking the bearded man's pulse when the brothers reached her side. "He's dead," she reported, a fact that was already painfully obvious to the adults.

"I swear, he just came out of nowhere," Dean repeated.

"Maybe you fell asleep at the wheel," Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

"No, man, I was alert. The sun was up. No way I dozed off," he insisted.

His brother had ganked hundreds of monsters without a single qualm, but the accidental killing of a civilian had clearly left Dean distraught. "Okay," Sam soothed, crouching down to examine the body more closely. "Huh," he grunted in surprise as he drew back the dead man's jacket. "You don't get a wound like that by being hit by a car."

"It looks like a werewolf went after him," Emma offered.

Sam shook his head. During her brief time in Purgatory Emma had seen monsters aplenty, but when it came to hunting, she was still inexperienced. "More like some wild animal. Are you sure he was on his feet when you hit him," he asked Dean, "and not already lying dead in the road?" No wallet, Sam noted as he patted the corpse down expertly. No ID of any kind.

"I thought he was on his feet," Dean's expression was baffled as he looked down at the gaping wound in the man's torso, "but he wouldn't get far with that. It looks like something ripped out his guts."

"Yeah, look at those claw marks," Emma said. "Maybe it was a grizzly bear?"

"Maybe. Come on." Sam didn't like the way she stared at the corpse without pity or disgust, just simple curiosity. The Amazon's influence, he thought, combined with her experiences in Purgatory. He urged his niece and brother away from the body, back toward the Impala. "Dude, he'd have been dead within an hour even if you hadn't hit him," he reassured Dean. "We'll put in an anonymous call to the police, once we reach the next town."

"I guess so. Poor bastard." Dean let himself be steered toward the passenger side of the Impala.

They all piled into the car and Sam started up the motor. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Emma turn to look out the back window. "Don't-" he began, but she'd already whirled around, her eyes wide.

"Sam? Dad? He's gone!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: first off, sincere thanks to <em>'Guest', Quindecim, Star Trail, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, CatastrophicCarnival, Nyx Ro, RHatch89, _and _hopelessromantic92 _for the reviews! _

_To_ Nyx Ro: _I agree with you about Purgatory!_

_Annnnd, you probably noticed I skipped ahead a lot in this chapter. I feel like I owe you guys an explanation. Originally I was going to follow along with the events of Season 8 and integrate Emma into the story, but I just couldn't do it. It was boring-you all already know what happens-and I felt trying to cram Emma into a storyline that she had no business being in crossed the line way too far into Mary Sue territory. Finally I decided to go off on a tangent and just play around with the episodes that contribute to the story I want to tell. (For starters, you may recognize a bit of episode 16 from Season 8, 'Remember the Titans', at the end of this chapter.) I hope you'll find this approach entertaining._

_Thanks again to all who have followed, favorited, and reviewed! I appreciate your support. _


	13. Chapter 13

The little town of Great Falls, Montana, had a library, which was where Dean and Sam left Emma while they visited the morgue. The John Doe struck by the Impala that morning had turned up again, this time mauled by a bear.

Bored, the teenager settled in with a book. Being sidelined from a hunt rankled even more after Purgatory, but she had to admit there was no way she could pass for an FBI agent. It wasn't long, however, before her father and uncle were back to pick her up. This time, Emma saw as she approached the car, she'd be sharing the back seat with the dead man from the roadside, mysteriously revived once more.

"Emma, meet Shane."

"Hello," she said politely.

"He dies," Dean summed up as his daughter took her seat.

"Every day, for as long as I can remember," Shane said matter-of-factly. "After a few hours, I'm back."

Instead of a motel, the Dean located a lodge nearby. The brothers got Shane tucked away safely out of sight in a cabin, then settled in to do some research in the cabin next door. They didn't have much information to go on. The man had amnesia. Shane wasn't even his real name, just a name he'd been given because, as he put it, people had to call him something. Emma listened to her father and uncle theorize about witches and curses for a while, then drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, they all awakened to the sound of fighting coming from the cabin next door. Within moments they'd all rushed to Shane's aid. Dean charged through the door first, a knife drawn, but the slender attacker kicked his legs out from under him. Turning to see Sam and Emma in the doorway, she flung up a hand and they were propelled backward, flying off the small front porch of the cabin and landing hard on the ground in front of the steps.

Sam picked himself up and charged back up the steps with Emma right on his heels, but by the time they got inside, the fight was over. Shane's attacker had disappeared.

Dean turned to Shane. "Who the hell was that?" he demanded.

Emma was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. Whoever the intruder was, she'd kicked ass! "She had superhuman strength, didn't she?" _Like me_, she added silently to herself, although no Amazon Emma had ever heard of could knock people down with just a wave of her hand. Or teleport, for that matter.

Shane shrugged, baffled, in response to Dean's question. "She—she said that she knew me."

"Yeah, how?" Sam closed the cabin door.

"I don't know, but I could have sworn that she was upset that I didn't know her back." Shane's breathing was labored. "I just need a minute," he gasped. "I've never been in a fight in my whole life."

Dean and Emma exchanged puzzled looks over Shane's head. It was obvious he'd had some serious training, whether he remembered it or not. Then they all looked on in helpless concern as he collapsed.

* * *

><p>"We need to think" Sam said. "Dean, what do we know of that has Jason Bourne fighting skills, dies a lot, and has a history with violent women?"<p>

The Winchesters were sitting in the cabin, looking at Shane, who was laid out on one of the twin beds, looking peaceful in death, his face in repose.

"I don't know," Dean smirked at his brother. "...You?"

Sam scoffed. "Okay, yeah, that description could fit either of us," he countered as Emma tried and failed to stifle a giggle.

Just then there was a quiet knock at the door. Emma watched as her father went to answer it, his footsteps silent as he drew his gun, concealing it behind the door as he opened it. The woman standing there with a small child pressed up shyly against her legs was hardly a threat and he slipped the weapon into his waistband as she spoke.

"Agent Bonham? This is going to sound really strange, but I'm looking for a corpse that went missing today. The coroner said that you were the last one to see it. I'm Hayley," she said, peering over Dean's shoulder. She gestured to Shane, lying temporarily dead on the faded bedspread. "I'm the mother of his son."

* * *

><p>Emma and Dean leaned against the railing, watching Shane push his son Oliver on the swings while Hayley hovered protectively nearby. Both father and daughter sipped from mugs. Emma's held hot cocoa. Dean's, Sam was fairly sure, held whiskey. They both turned as he joined them on the small porch.<p>

"Did you find anything?" Dean asked.

"Well, it looks like we were right about the curse thing. From what I can tell, we're looking at a Titan."

"A Titan? Like, a God?"

"More like a proto-God, like the Gods before the Gods," Sam began.

"They were the children and grandchildren of Gaia," Emma broke in. "They ruled Greece before Zeus and the rest of the Olympians overthrew them and cast them into Tartarus."

Sam nodded agreement while Dean chuckled. "Nerds," he taunted fondly.

* * *

><p>It turned out that Shane was actually the Titan Prometheus, who had stolen fire from Mount Olympus and saved humankind. As punishment, Zeus, the king of the gods, had chained Prometheus to a mountainside, cursing him to a daily cycle of death and rebirth. After thousands of years, an avalanche freed Prometheus from his chains. Hayley was the sole survivor of a group of climbers caught in that same avalanche. After making their way down the mountain, the two shared a night of passion, that is, until Prometheus died in Hayley's arms. Unnerved by her lover's supernatural curse, Hayley fled, only seeking out the man she'd named Shane when their son inherited the same curse.<p>

It took several days of intense research, but Dean eventually found a translation of a ritual that would summon Zeus. With Shane and Hayley's help, the Winchesters had gathered the components necessary for both the summoning ritual and for a weapon that could kill the immortal king of the Greek gods.

"I can't believe this," Emma said now, as Dean and Sam finished sharpening the wooden stakes they'd use to kill Zeus if he refused to lift the curse from Oliver. "Dad, you saw me in Purgatory! I fought just as many monsters as Sam did. You can't keep treating me like a child and leaving me behind! Tell him, Sam," she pleaded, turning to her uncle.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, Emma. What your dad says, goes." It was the same old argument as always, Sam thought, Dean's endless ambivalence about his daughter following in his footsteps into 'the family business'.

"You're letting Ollie go, but not me?" Emma scoffed, incredulous. "He's only seven, Dad, and he's _useless_! He can't fight. He can't even talk!"

"We have to take the kid so Zeus can break the curse," Dean growled, his patience growing thin. He looked to his brother for support. "Tell her, Sam."

"No way. I'm not getting drawn into this." Sam stood up, concealing the two stakes he'd completed inside his jacket. "I'm going to go next door and go over the plan one more time with Shane."

"I know you can fight, Emma Jo. But this is no ordinary hunt. We've never gone up against a god curse before," Dean said gruffly. "Trust me, there'll be plenty of other hunts." He'd made up his mind. Nothing she could say would change it, so the teenager deployed the only weapon she had left: attitude. Throwing herself down with enough force to make the sagging motel sofa groan, she slouched, not just her expression but every line of her body radiating sullen animosity, reminding Dean of Sam when he was her age and doing his best to raise their father's blood pressure to dangerous levels.

"Whatever," Emma huffed.

Dean felt his own blood pressure rising. He was the adult here, he reminded himself. "I'm going to go pick up something for dinner. Stay put," he ordered, strategically turning away before the teen could roll her eyes and cause him to blow an aneurysm.

* * *

><p>Emma was still sulking after a dinner of Chinese take-out. Dean studiously ignored her. It made for a tense evening in the motel room they were all sharing, but, Sam reflected wryly, uncomfortable silence beat the window-rattling screaming matches his own teenaged self had had with John. Dean settled in to watch a game on the staticky television and Sam had just opened up his laptop when Emma gasped.<p>

The teen quickly stifled the sound and clamped her hand over her wrist, but both men could see the light spreading up her forearm.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean reached her first, grabbing her hand and undoing the band of the chunky sports watch Emma wore to conceal the Amazon sigil branded on her wrist. The scar glowed red and angry-looking, as if the wound left by the brand was fresh, the veins radiating from Emma's wrist flaring with white light. Even as they stared down at it, the uncanny effect began to fade away. "Why's it doing that?" Dean's voice was harsh with worry.

"I don't know!" Emma protested.

"Sam?" Dean turned to his brother for an explanation. "Is this, like, a regular thing?"

"No. I mean, I don't think it is. Emma?"

"This is the first time it's happened since Wyoming. Or Utah. Wherever it was. And I don't know why it does that," she snapped at Dean. "It doesn't hurt. It's nothing." She retrieved her watch from the bed and buckled it back over her wrist.

Dean scowled. "Funny coincidence that it happens again just as we're going up against the king of the ancient Greek gods."

"You think there's a connection between the Amazons and Zeus?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. Or Artemis, Zeus' daughter," Dean reasoned. "I mean, some Xena-wannabe went after Shane, back at the lodge."

Emma shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. Artemis had nothing to do with the Amazons. The first Amazons were the daughters of Harmonia and Ares."

"And most of the Greek Pantheon despised Ares. So, what do we do? Bug out?" Sam remembered how they'd skipped town the last time Emma's scar had flared, but judging by the stubborn set of his brother's jaw, that wasn't going to happen again.

And sure enough, "No," Dean growled. "We stick to the plan. If some ancient Greek god really is gunning for Emma, we might as well face 'em now. I figure we're as ready as we'll ever be."

"You mean I get to come along?"

"Yeah, Candy Crush, you get to come along." Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You didn't do the scar thing on purpose, did you?"

"What? No!" Emma was affronted.

"All right, all right, I believe you. Go wake up Shane and the others. We might as well get this show on the road."

* * *

><p>Dean lit the copper bowl of spell components, completing the summoning ritual, and thunder rolled loudly overhead, shaking the abandoned warehouse. Lightning flashed and Zeus appeared inside the circle of protection Sam had painted on the cement floor.<p>

Emma blinked at the sight of the legendary king of the gods. Zeus had always been depicted as an muscular figure draped in a chiton, with long, flowing, white hair and beard. This modernized version was far less imposing. In fact, she thought with contempt, in a suit and tie Zeus looked more like a Leviathan than a god.

Zeus' character quickly proved just as small and petty as his appearance as he argued with Dean.

"Don't be that guy," Dean said, trying to appeal to the god's sense of justice, but when Zeus still refused to lift the curse from Oliver, he shrugged. "Hey, you can rot here for all I care."

"Yes," Zeus taunted, "and the child will continue to suffer."

"Let's roll." Dean turned and walked away, followed by Sam and Shane. Emma moved to follow the men, but turned back when Zeus spoke again.

"He needs me, and you know it," the god told Hayley, stretching out a hand to Oliver.

She stood there near the edge of the circle, clinging to her son, her eyes darting between Zeus and the three men striding away across the warehouse.

Hayley didn't get it, Emma realized. Thinking quickly, she darted over and grabbed Oliver by the hand, tugging the little boy along after her as she jogged to catch up with the others. Hayley had no choice but to follow, leaving Zeus trapped inside the circle. "Don't worry," Emma whispered as they all neared the exit. "Dad's just calling his bluff."

"We'll let the bastard stew for a while," Dean reassured Hayley in a low voice. "Let the guy think about what kind of petty douchebag leaves a curse on a little kid. He'll change his—"

Before he could finish, the goddess Artemis appeared in the doorway, dressed from head to toe in black leather. She flung out a hand and sent the Winchesters and Shane flying. They hit the floor hard, stunned for several long seconds by the force of the impact. Collecting themselves, they scrambled to their feet, but Artemis had already teleported away. Shane's body convulsed as his curse chose that moment to kick in for the day and he fell back onto the floor in a lifeless heap.

"Oh, dude," Sam groaned.

Artemis had teleported across the warehouse to where Zeus was trapped. Scuffing the paint with the sole of her boot, she broke the circle, freeing him. The vengeful god wasted no time, shooting lightning bolts at Dean, Sam, and Emma. Pain tore through Emma's body as she and her father and uncle were lifted off the ground, limbs jerking helplessly as the lightning crackled through them. Every nerve was on fire and Emma screamed, her Amazon training forgotten in the agony. The torment seemed to last an eternity, but finally Zeus turned his attention to Hayley and Oliver, leaving the three hunters to drop to the floor, their bodies still writhing and twitching with the aftereffects of the near-electrocution.

"Bring forth the child, please," Zeus called cheerfully to Hayley.

"Hayley, don't do it," Dean groaned as he struggled to get his legs under him. He half-crawled to Shane's body, as if to check on the lifeless man, but Emma saw him slide the wooden stake from its hiding place inside the Titan's jacket. The Winchesters managed to get themselves standing, and Dean passed Emma the stake. Armed with the supernatural weapons, the three moved to encircle Zeus as he questioned Hayley about her son.

"Artemis…" the king of the gods gestured negligently. Clearly he hadn't been as distracted by Hayley and Oliver as they'd hoped.

Artemis used her telekinesis and the Winchesters found themselves slammed back once more, this time into the rough cinderblock wall of the warehouse. The goddess strode over to them, releasing them with a flick of her fingers. "Move."

They had no choice but to move as Artemis commanded, the force of her telekinesis pushing at their backs. Sam spoke up. "So, you know who this is, Dean, walking us to our deaths?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

Dean's tone was as sullen as Emma's got whenever she lost an argument with her father. The thought would have amused Sam if the situation wasn't so dire. He forged ahead. "It's our god, Artemis—the goddess of hunters."

"Oh, that's fascinating," Dean drawled, sarcastic.

"See, she's who we'd pray to for courage when hunting the Gorgon or the Minotaur. Of course, she's not really worship-worthy anymore, having lost a step and all," he went on, but Artemis had had enough.

"The hell I have," she snarled, and all three Winchesters found themselves smashed face-first into the wall again.

"Really, Sam?" Dean groused, "Trash-talking a god? Seriously?"

"So you're still at full power?" Sam taunted, "Really? So the goddess of hunters couldn't find a shack in Montana? Maybe it's that you didn't want to find him." He grunted as she pressed him harder against the wall with her telekinesis.

"Good, Sam, you're doing great," Dean muttered.

"He loves you too, you know. He told us."

"You lie," Artemis snapped, but she looked uncertain. "What did he say to you?"

"That this wasn't the first time he'd escaped that mountain, and that you let him go free as long as you could hide your affair from the old man."

Artemis scoffed. "The hell he said. His brain is mush."

"Oh, yeah? Then how did I know? What, did you ever spill it to anyone? Homer? Hesiod? Herodotus? Of course not."

Dean stared at Sam as if he'd lost his mind.

"Homer and Hesiod were famous Greek poets," Emma filled him in, speaking out of the side of her mouth that wasn't smashed painfully up against the rough brick of the wall.

Her father answered the same way. "Thanks, Emma, but I don't think now is the best time for a history lesson."

Meanwhile, Sam was still taunting the goddess. "Go ahead. Kill us. And let your father kill Prometheus, and slaughter that little boy, over and over again," he told her. "That won't leave a mark."

Artemis relented, releasing the force holding them pressed up against the wall. An instant later, she'd disappeared, teleporting back into the warehouse. The Winchesters ran after her. Zeus was standing over the little boy, Oliver, lightning cupped in his hands. Shane had apparently just resurrected and was on his hands and knees, trying to rise and go to his son's defense.

Artemis faced her father with her bow in hand, an arrow knocked to the bowstring. "This has to stop, Father."

"Stop?" The lightning in Zeus' hands crackled with menace. "I'm only just getting started."

"You've done enough," she told him, drawing back the arrow.

"I am your father, and you will obey me!" Zeus thundered. He let the gathered lightning fly toward Shane.

Swiftly, Artemis lowered her bow, the arrow gripped lightly between her thumb and two fingers as she gestured with her hand, stopping her father's lightning bolts with her telekinesis. They hung between them, crackling in the air. "You were once my father! Now... You're someone else."

Sam, Dean, and Emma charged at Zeus as he fought his daughter for control. Unwilling to release the lightning, Zeus left himself wide open to the attack. Dean stabbed his stake into Zeus' heart and the brilliant, blue-white light and sizzling crackle of the lightning abruptly died as the king of the gods dropped to the floor.

There was a tense moment as Artemis stared down at her father, her expression stricken.

"Mom!" Oliver broke the silence, running to throw his arms around Hayley.

Artemis took Zeus' hand, then turned and shared a long look with Shane. Then the goddess disappeared, taking Zeus' corpse with her.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: In several places in this chapter and the last I've lifted dialog directly from the episode<em> 'Remember the Titans'. _All credit goes to the writers of_ Supernatural, _in this case specifically, I believe, to Dan Loflin. _

_Please join me for the next chapter, when we'll continue our Season 8 tangent with episode 18,_ 'Freaks and Geeks'. _In this AU, most of the other events of Season 8 (meeting Henry, finding the Men of Letters bunker, Sam's trials, etc.) take place after Emma's story arc ends. Yes, I said ends. Don't worry, I plan to give her a great sendoff! _

_And finally, to the most wonderful of readers, those of you who take the time to review, you rock! Many thanks to _StarTrail, RHatch89, Nyx Ro, Loves to read books, wack sparrow, EmilyAnneMcGarrett-Winchester, CatastrophicCarnival, _and_ missbosslady27.


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